


no one has to lose

by honeyvoiced



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, BDSM, Bondage, Edging, F/F, Praise Kink, Safeword Use, Suspension Bondage, Temperature Play, author took creative liberties, carrington atlantic exists idc, endless pining, firby au, however fallon carrington praise kink sounds pretty canon imo, kirby is a useless lesbian, porn with little plot, somehow theres STILL fluff?, the prompt was 'pillow' how did this happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: "Does that mean you're going to take it easy on me?""No, no," Kirby flapped one hand, shaking her head. She felt lighter for having said it, and Fallon clearly wasn't too bothered. "I like you far too much to ruin this experience for you with something as annoying as mercy."
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32
Collections: Pillow





	no one has to lose

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I am so sorry.

_"You're new, aren't you?"_

The disembodied voice from behind Kirby sounded almost a little worn; rough around the edges, but undeniably feminine. It wasn’t difficult to picture what the other woman must have looked like - maybe not personally, but what she was wearing. Black and leather, for sure. Maybe even with one of those trendy pentagram harnesses that seemed to be all the rage for the edgy, darker types lately. 

"Just to you, miss-" A sharp sting started in the sole of her foot and travelled all the way up the nerves of her leg, making her jerk and painfully slam her knee into the edge of the workhorse bench, stopping her response in its tracks. Trying to ignore the smarting sensation, Kirby held her tongue, waiting for more specific instruction.

"I prefer 'sir'."

_Interesting_.

“That was a little unfair of me,” the voice continued. Heels clicked against the tiled floor, growing louder as they drew closer. “I’ll make it up to you.”

The footsteps stopped, and while Kirby would have been much more content to not give her any sort of reaction, she knew that that was what the other woman was waiting on.

“Thank you, _sir,”_ she replied.

The heels started clicking again, much closer to her side now, but as she went to turn her head to the source of the sound, the mean end of a riding crop pressed warningly to her cheek, turning her face forward again.

“Ah, ah,” the other woman spoke again. “Look at the floor.”

She did, dipping her head and resting her chin gently against the headrest of the bench. The other woman’s shoes finally came into her view when she stopped at the head of the table. Kirby found herself having to physically, consciously stop herself from looking up at her - it was a reflex, and being told not to was a surprising show of control. For a moment, she wondered if there was any reason for the command, other than just a simple flex of her power over the redhead.

The shoes on her feet were black - patent leather pumps just like Kirby had predicted - but the ends of her dress swayed into view as she moved, silky, and red. Another interesting detail.

“How long have you been here?” The woman asked.

“Today?” Kirby replied, almost lifting her head _again_ to the sound of her voice.

“No.” The response was short, but surprisingly uncruel.

“About a year,” Kirby replied. The energy in the room seemed to shift, and before she could be corrected, she added, “ _Sir.”_

"Hm" was the other woman's only response before the shoes pivoted and walked away again, around the other side of the table. The sensation of the end of the crop against her back made Kirby freeze in anticipation, but it didn't leave her skin. Instead, it trailed down her spine, sliding past the curve of her ass and brushing dangerously close to her center. It glided smoothly over the silky material of her underwear, then trailed down her thigh and calf to rest against the sole of her foot again.

She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she gasped when it left her foot, anticipating it smacking back down again, but it didn't return, and the silence of the room was replaced by a very sudden, loud buzzing.

The first contact from the vibrator made her jump, a surprised chuckle escaping her at the first sensation. She immediately regretted it, clearing her throat to cover the sound - but if the other woman was insulted, she didn't do anything about it. Shifting her hips reflexively, Kirby tilted her head back to huff a lock of hair off of her face and was instantly met with a loud, embarrassing slap across the left side of her ass.

“I said, _look at the floor_. I won’t repeat myself again.” 

She wasn't sure what possessed her — ‘bratty’ had never been her style — but the image of the reddening handprint she could feel hotly on her rear combined with really just _needing_ to get a good look at the woman both spurred Kirby into tilting her head back and glaring at the mirror across from her. 

The tall woman still positioned behind her stared back at her in the reflection and then leaned forward to gather Kirby’s hair up into one hand. The vibrator pressed against her more insistently as she leaned into her, but Kirby steadied her gaze. She was less edgy-looking than Kirby had been expecting. She was much more classically dressed: the long red dress Kirby had noted earlier seemed to cling to her every curve, despite not appearing to be designed as a body-conscious piece. 

"Can't help yourself, can you?" She asked.

Kirby swallowed heavily, and the other woman's hand tightened around her hair, pulling it back at the base of her neck like a leash. Her head tilted back further as the woman's elbow dug into her back for balance.

"Fine," she hummed. "I can compromise. How about you just let me know when you've seen enough, okay?"

She readjusted her grip and pulled her hair taut, wringing a small, choked breath out of her. Maintaining eye contact, she turned up the vibrator, and the volume of the buzzing in the room multiplied.

Gasping softly and closing her eyes, Kirby curled her toes uncomfortably, holding her breath until the vibrator shut off entirely and the other woman's hand came down hard against her again, this time on the back of her thigh.

"Make up your mind. Open your eyes."

Kirby hesitated, then winced as she felt a second slap in the same spot.

Her eyes snapped back open and the woman loosened her grip on her hair to walk around to the front of the table again. Blocking her view of the mirror, she stood before her and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If you can't keep your head up without me holding it, I'm going to get the neck restraints. Do you want that?"

"No, sir."

"And if you can't keep your eyes open, I'll get the blindfold. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." Kirby locked eyes with her and wondered if the action read as complacent or defiant. 

The woman’s features were locked in a stern expression, but they were still soft around the edges. Her eyes took almost all of the attention away from the rest of her face - a bright, crystalline blue that Kirby could see even from several feet below her. Framed by high cheekbones narrowing down into full lips, she imposed a surprisingly intimidating figure for a woman wearing what could have easily been a perfectly appropriate outfit for an engagement party or casino night.

Kirby probably wouldn’t have looked away, even if she was allowed to.

* * *

"How long have you been doing this?"

Kirby's question seemed to surprise the woman, who glanced up from where she was wincing as she read the label of the cheap drugstore aloe vera gel in her hands. 

"Me?" She asked, even though they were alone.

Kirby nodded, propping herself up on her elbows. The new bench she'd moved to was considerably more comfortable - the workhorse she'd been bent over only a few minutes earlier wasn't exactly a piece of furniture fit for a lounge.

"A while," the other woman replied.

"What's your name?" Kirby asked next, laying back again and stretching out expectantly as the woman approached her.

"Why?"

She poured some of the gel into one hand, then set the bottle aside to massage her hands together before planting both palms on the redhead's stomach. She hissed in protest, and the woman's features immediately morphed into a brand new look of concern - Kirby's heart thudded excitedly against her ribs.

"Does that hurt?"

"Just cold," she assured her, already relaxing. 

"This stuff is vile," the woman commented, pursing her lips either in disgust or concentration as she got to work, gently kneading her fingertips into Kirby's skin. Her movements were stiff and unsure, but Kirby wasn't in any position to complain with her muscles screaming for some relief from being pressed into the bench earlier.

"It's just aloe," Kirby told her.

" _Barely_ ," the woman responded.

"Well, I'm sorry that they don't have any organic plants and a full staff to chop and harvest any real raw aloe for this," Kirby replied, smiling a little and momentarily catching her eye before she went back to focusing on her task.

"Next time," the woman decided aloud, nodding once. Kirby was sure she saw a hint of a smile on her face, too.

"You didn't tell me your name," she reminded her.

"I know," the woman responded, catching her eye again. The smirk was undeniable, that time. Her movements grew more confident the longer she touched her; fingers sliding through the slickness of the gel, pressing more insistently into her abdominal muscles with just the right amount of pressure to make her head drop back against the table happily.

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Why do you want to know?" 

"So I can recommend you, obviously. Ask for you, maybe." 

The woman's fingers slid up her flanks, kneading gently into her ribs and toeing the line perfectly between too light or too rough to accidentally tickle. The effect was Kirby languidly stretching her arms over her head and groaning appreciatively.

"That good, huh?"

Kirby opened one eye to get a better look at her.

"I didn't realize how sore I was, honestly."

"I meant that you need to recommend me - ask for me."

"Oh," Kirby closed her eyes again and then nodded. "I prefer familiarity. Besides, we barely got into it today. I figured you deserved a chance to prove you're not a _total_ softie."

Her faux-taunt made the other woman chuckle lowly; warningly. Kirby's heart slammed against her ribs again.

"It's Fallon."

"Is it really?" Kirby asked after a moment. "That's... not a real name."

"Does it need to be my real name?" 'Fallon' asked, quirking an eyebrow down at her.

"I guess not," Kirby replied.

"'Kirby' isn't a real name," Fallon replied after a moment. Her tone was mock-cruel, but the words were undeniably playful.

The redhead snorted, then sat up and dislodged Fallon's hands from her waist.

"Pass me my stuff?" She requested, gesturing to the box across the room. As Fallon turned away from her, wiping her hands on the damp rag at the end of the bench, Kirby swung her legs over the side and sat up slowly. "When will you be back?"

Fallon looked over, shrugging.

"Not sure, I keep my schedule pretty busy."

She returned with the box, standing back from the bench as Kirby pulled out her jeans, wriggling into them before finding her socks and tugging them on as well.

"You managed to pencil in 'caning' this week, though," Kirby pointed out, shooting her a playful look. The blush on the other woman's cheeks didn't go unnoticed, but she didn't comment on it. Sliding down from the bench, she pressed her feet to the tiled floor and groaned in protest, adding as an afterthought: "Which, by the way, remind me to take off of the list, next time I'll be walking home."

Fallon chuckled, though there was a hint of sympathy behind it.

"You should've said something," she insisted.

Kirby waved a hand dismissively, stepping into her shoes and leaning down to tighten the laces.

"It's like twenty blocks - I'll be nice and numb by then."

Fallon laughed again, the sound trailing off into an 'aw' as she returned the bottle of aloe to the shelf.

"Where d'you live?" She asked, backtracking immediately. "Oh. Weird question - I just meant, I could give you a ride."

Kirby glanced up at her, staring quietly for a moment, and Fallon stumbled over her own words.

"I just... is that against... some rule or something? I just -"

  
"I'd like a ride, thank you," Kirby replied, against her better judgment. Sure, she _seemed_ nice enough - well, nice was operative - but chances were if she weren't so interesting, Kirby wouldn't have given her the time of day outside of the room they were in.

* * *

Normally, Kirby wouldn't overthink a situation like this one. She'd made enough friends in the scene over the course of the year, but it was rare that she really did anything with anyone once they'd crossed the barrier into a more personal relationship. Her roommate was much more involved than Kirby was - it was certainly more of a lifestyle choice than a hobby for a rainy afternoon - but Kirby kept to herself the rest of the time. In the instance that she did bring someone home, it rarely came up.

Frankly, she usually left all of that submissive, needy bullshit back within the black-painted walls of the club. However, standing outside next to Fallon, shaking in the cold rain as she smoked her cigarette, Kirby felt worried to open her mouth in case an uncontrollable invitation back to her apartment fell out of her.

It had been a good second session - for Fallon, at least, Kirby had to hope. She was rarely brought to tears by anyone, but Fallon had fine-tuned how to frustrate her to the point of mentally spiralling within only two short visits together. 

She'd had to practically beg Fallon not to touch her after, lying through chattering teeth that she was totally fine - as if she wasn't going to dive into the backseat of a cab and barely make it through her front door before leaning against the nearest counter-corner and fucking herself stupid. 

"You're sure you're okay?" Fallon asked for what had to have been the thirtieth time. There was something more closely resembling curiosity than concern in her voice, but Kirby didn't have the wherewithal to unpack it.

"Yes, Fallon, I'm fine. That was intense. It was good," Kirby glanced over at her, and they locked eyes for a moment.

"Okay, good," Fallon replied.

Kirby quickly squeezed her eyes shut, turning back to the street. _'Good girl, that feels so much better, doesn’t it?'_ Fallon's voice from earlier remained in her head, even through the thudding sound of the rain hitting the pavement around them. 

"You're sure I can't give you a ride?"

Kirby looked over at the other woman and then shook her head.

"Seriously, are _you_ okay?" She couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice. Twenty minutes earlier the other woman had been laying over her back, strap buried inside of her to the hilt whispering, _'Don't you dare cum'_ into her ear - now she just looked lost.

"Me?" Fallon asked. "I'm fine."

Kirby butted out the last of her cigarette as a taxi cab pulled smoothly up to the curb in front of them. 

"I won't be back until Thursday night," she told Fallon, almost for the other woman's sake more than her own. "My work schedule is a total bitch and my manager has it out for me. You said you wanted to see the suspension rig?"

Fallon's cheeks flushed, and she looked around as if anyone was nearby to hear them.

"Uh - yeah, Thursday night works."

"I'll see you then," Kirby promised, giving her a quick wave before pulling the door open and sliding into the backseat of the cab. She watched Fallon dig around for her keys and then start her trek down the block as the car pulled away from the club.

* * *

“You got flowers,” Kirby’s roommate greeted as she came through the door. She sighed quietly to herself in disappointment - she’d been hoping to have the place to herself for at least a couple of hours. “Or a plant. Or whatever.”

Perking up curiously, she headed towards the source of her voice and found the other woman sprawled out on the couch in her underwear with a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table.

“When?”

“They showed up right after you left. I left them in your room, the door was open.”

Coming closer to grab a slice from the box as punishment, Kirby ignored her squawk of protest and headed into her room curiously.

It looked untouched, thankfully, except for the newest addition to the clutter in the form of a tiny pot resting on the edge of her desk. It was simple - black plastic probably directly from the greenhouse it had been purchased at - and housed a medium-sized healthy-looking cluster of aloe stalks. Laughing to herself, Kirby wicked the card aside without even needing to read who it was from and moved it to the sunny spot on her windowsill instead.

* * *

"You're not claustrophobic, are you?"

Fallon stood back curiously while the bored-looking man currently adjusting the leather cuffs around Kirby's arms addressed her.

She snorted, glancing up at him and squinting playfully.

"I'm almost insulted, Nick."

"You know I have to ask," he replied, shooting her a small half-grin before tugging experimentally on the cuff on her wrist, then starting on the next set just above her elbows. He glanced back at Fallon and beckoned her closer with one finger, then stepped aside to show her what he was doing.

"These shouldn't slip. She'll let you know if they are. If they are, you make sure this is steady-" he hit his knee against the bench that Kirby was currently on, "-and then you ring for assistance. Got it?"

"Got it," Fallon replied, sounding much more confident than she looked. 

Nick tugged the pulley closer, hooking the several sets of cuffs to the carabiner on the line. 

"You let me know if she gives you any trouble," he added, stepping away from the table and taking up the line in his hand, giving it an experimental tug before Kirby felt all of the cuffs strain. He continued pulling, stepping further and further away until the bench was no longer solid beneath her, and she swayed slightly at each adjustment he made. Hooking the line to the wall, he double-checked the knot and then turned to Fallon again. "Let me know when you're done - don't try to take her down yourself, you're both going to end up hurt."

Fallon watched him go, then turned to Kirby again and cleared her throat. She looked like she might make a joke; something to cut through the awkwardness of the silence that they were left in, but she fell into her role instead, and did a slow lap around the redhead's suspended form before coming to a halt in front of her.

It was interesting, to be at eye level with her while in a horizontal position. Kirby had really only ever been in the rig previously for demonstration purposes, but she'd figured Fallon out pretty quickly, and could tell that she was already losing interest in the whole ordeal.

It wasn't like her to care that deeply - some people simply didn't click when it came to _this_ , but the idea that Fallon was going to be bored of her, and find someone else made her feel panicky, like she was on the verge of losing grip on something very very important.

"I was going to try a ball gag today, but I'm starting to see the issue, here."

Fallon's words were conversational, but her tone was stern. She squinted as she surveyed the other woman, cocking her head to the side.

"What is that?" Kirby asked. She shook her arms behind herself, ignoring the ache in her shoulders at the action. The loose chain between the cuffs rattled loudly. "I can do this. Or snap my fingers."

Fallon seemed to consider this, then shook her head.

"No. Maybe next time."

The idea of 'next time' sent a little thrill up Kirby's spine, and she had to fight to keep the smile off of her face. Fallon sidestepped around her, out of sight, and returned a moment later to hold up two implements with one eyebrow cocked threateningly.

"I feel generous today. You can pick," she told her, raising the flogger in her left hand, and the crop in her right.

Kirby's eyes darted between the two, and she nodded at the flogger with the jut of her chin.

"What was that?" Fallon asked softly, leaning closer as if she'd just misunderstood a whisper. It was a surprisingly effective tone, sending a chill down the other woman’s spine instantly.

"Flogger. _Sir_."

"The flogger _what_ , sir?" Fallon asked once more, dropping the crop to the bench and pulling the leather tails of the flogger between her fingers as she waited.

"The flogger, _please_ , sir."

"You let me know if you want a break," she replied, raising her voice as she started to walk back around her to stand between her legs. "I'll switch to the crop if you remember to ask nicely."

* * *

It was a little odd, having Nick in the room, pressing an ice pack to her ankles and talking to Fallon casually over her as if they were having a coffee together or just catching up around the water cooler. Still, to suggest that she be alone with Fallon seemed a little too personal. She'd been coming to enjoy the playfulness of their aftercare sessions - complaining about how much they hated their bosses or how shitty the weather had been - but she was too shy to ask for that now. Half an hour earlier, she'd been strung up from the ceiling in a hog-tie, begging the other woman to _please, for the love of god, fuck her already_ , but requesting some alone time to just 'hang out' while she cooled down from their session felt far too needy.

Rolling her shoulders to relieve the strain in her neck, she watched as Fallon jolted up from her seat and leaned over to adjust the bench, concern lacing all of her features.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," Kirby breathed, startled. "I - have a kink in my neck."

Fallon glanced around the room for a moment before seeming to give up on finding what she was looking for and grabbing Kirby's sweater from the box under the table instead. She balled it up roughly, tucking it behind her head as a makeshift pillow.

"Thanks," Kirby laughed, adjusting it a little and then handing her arm back to Fallon as she took her seat once more. She resumed pressing the ice pack to the angry red marks along her biceps, frowning to herself almost imperceptibly. If Kirby hadn't been watching her so intently, she might not have noticed.

"I think I'm good on ice," she said after a moment. "I'm successfully too numb to feel anything, let alone pain."

Nick flicked her in the ankle, hard, and she yelped in response.

"Liar," he replied.

Sticking her tongue out at him with childish, playful defiance, Kirby sat herself up and leaned over to grab for her box of clothing.

Nick stood as well, heading for the door, but Fallon hesitated, shifting back and forth in her seat and stalling as Kirby quietly redressed.

"Yes?" Kirby asked after a moment.

"I think..." Fallon watched her dress, before looking away. "Maybe next time might be it."

"What do you mean?" She asked, glancing up from where she was buttoning her jeans. 

"I just... am going to step back for a little bit," Fallon explained. "I know I already promised 'next time', so, we can do one more. If you'd like."

Immediate sadness hit Kirby in a wave, but she squashed it down, shrugging.

"You don't need to do that. Promises really don't mean anything, not when it comes to this sort of stuff. Seriously - you don't need to come back if you don't want to."

"I do," Fallon replied quickly. "want to, I mean. I'm just... not sure this is exactly what I'm looking for."

Kirby's ears started ringing almost immediately, but she ignored it, pulling her shirt over her head and fixing Fallon with a defeated look.

"Then we shouldn't. I'm not even saying that to be nice - it's going to be shitty for both of us if your head isn't in it."

Fallon opened her mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of her response and closed it again, nodding.

"Okay. Is this... it, then?"

Grabbing a damp rag and beginning to wipe down the surface of the bench, Kirby considered her options. If she wasn't going to see her again, it didn't matter. Atlanta was a big city - they could go the rest of their lives without running into one another again.

"I guess. Let’s get a drink, then."

Fallon hesitated, and Kirby quickly backtracked.

"Not a date. As friends." 

The brunette was visibly reconsidering, now, but Kirby couldn't resist one last jab: 

“If you can throatfuck me with a dildo, I'm sure you can handle one drink and a conversation that we're both clothed for."

Her words had the desired effect of making Fallon laugh, and she felt herself grinning involuntarily in response to the sound of it. 

"Okay," she agreed. "One drink."

* * *

"You never told me what it is that you do," Kirby pointed out, holding the door open to the tiny bar that Fallon had chosen for them a few blocks east of the club. 

"I work in acquisitions," Fallon's voice sounded bored as she answered, so Kirby's question about what exactly that job entailed died in her throat.

"You don't like it?"

"I used to," Fallon replied - Kirby was surprised at how much the simple answer really said. "What about you?"

"Administrative assistant," she said easily, as the pair of them stepped up to the hostess booth.

"Isn't that a fancy word for secretary?" Fallon teased.

"I think once you get a job in a real hospital they start calling it administrative work," Kirby chuckled. "I'll model for demonstrations and events at the club, sometimes, too."

The hostess appeared, wordlessly leading them to a booth near the opposite wall.

"You said you didn't like your job, either," Fallon pointed out. "Which one?"

Kirby considered for a moment.

"I don't think the modelling counts. I'm not - there's a whole industry for that, I just do it as a favour, sometimes, if they ask."

"A paid favour?"

Kirby caught Fallon's eye as they settled into their seats and quirked an eyebrow. 

"Why don't you tell me all about how you ended up in that club in the first place?"

Fallon glanced up as their server appeared, ordering some unpronounceable bottle of wine for the table before turning back to Kirby with a wry look.

"How much time do you have?"

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait -" Kirby narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on the increasingly blurry image of the woman in front of her. "You didn't say you worked for your _dad_ . Oh, my _god_."

"What?" Fallon snapped back, though the usual scary sternness in her tone was dampened by the cursive lilt to her voice. Her lips were a darker shade now than they were when they came in - the velvety redness had been replaced with a deeper, natural-looking berry stain from the wine. The indignant pout on her face and redness on her cheeks made her look positively _edible_. "It wasn't an important detail!"

"Of course it is," Kirby rolled her eyes, glancing down at the dregs of wine in her glass. The Fallon sitting across from her was an entirely different person than the one she'd been locked in those rooms with for the last few weeks - it was a miracle she'd managed to maintain any sense of order and control at all.

"Whatever," Fallon huffed. She sounded genuinely annoyed, so Kirby reeled it in.

"You know what your problem is?" Kirby asked, swigging the last of her wine before continuing without waiting for an answer. "You went about this entirely the wrong way."

"Oh, please tell me what I'm doing wrong. I'd love to know," Fallon replied dramatically. She leaned over the table as if hanging onto the redhead's every word. Kirby's eyes dropped to her cleavage shamelessly before darting back up to her face. 

"You're not getting anything out of this," she gestured between the two of them, "because it's basically just additional work hours."

"Except you do what I say," Fallon pointed out.

"Sometimes," Kirby shrugged.

Fallon reached for the bottle, but Kirby slid it aside, dipping her head to catch her eye again. Carefully, ignoring the tremor in her hand, she lifted it and refilled Fallon's glass for her before refilling her own.

"You're on the wrong side of the riding crop - that's how the saying goes, right?"

Snorting into her glass and almost choking on the sip she was taking, the brunette cleared her throat and lowered it back to the table, wiping at the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

"Somehow, I don't think having less control is going to be the solution to any work-related stress. This isn't some elaborate plot to get me back for making you beg me to step on you, is it? Or are you still mad about the cold water?"

Kirby sipped from her own glass, laughing into it before setting it down.

"I just think you can't knock it til you try it. You've never been spanked?"

"Not in the bedroom," Fallon replied bitterly, making her giggling renew tenfold.

Kirby surveyed her over the rim of her glass for a moment.

“I bet you’d like it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Fallon gave her an amused look, but visible, undeniable curiosity was bubbling just underneath of it. “What makes you say that?”

Kirby shrugged.

“I just have a feeling. I’m pretty intuitive - you can always let me know if you change your mind.”

Fallon stared at her for a minute - Kirby thought she might actually agree right then and there, but the moment passed and she looked away.

“Should we get another bottle?”

Glancing at her phone, Kirby sighed and shook her head.

“I have to get up for work tomorrow - better not.”

The look of disappointment on Fallon’s face was so clear, even for a moment, and it made Kirby feel butterflies in her stomach for the first time in a while. She considered asking for her number - something, _anything_ to have an excuse to see her again - but Fallon spoke first.

“I guess this is it, then.”

She avoided Kirby’s eye as she dug into her purse, but Kirby quickly slapped down a few crumpled bills before the other woman could retrieve her wallet.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Kirby replied, smiling when she finally looked up.

“Atlanta’s pretty big,” Fallon pointed out.

“You’re not that lucky,” Kirby said, draining the last of her glass before standing up from her seat.

* * *

Kirby woke up with a hangover.

She'd known it was coming as she'd laid in bed the night before, feeling the room spin and her head pound from the sugar and dehydration, but no amount of praying to wake up with a clear mind and a calm stomach was able to save her from the sudden sickness she felt when the sunlight streamed into her bedroom window.

She had barely given herself time to get ready for work - having slept through her first alarm and only waking up to her emergency backup - so she pushed through the haze of bad sleep and hauled herself into the shower to start her morning.

Her thighs burned uncomfortably in the hot water, and the welts that she could feel under her fingertips throbbed hotly when she passed her washcloth over them. She usually showered right after a session, but the night before she'd been in a hurry to spend more time with Fallon, and had settled for half a package of baby wipes in the club’s bathroom and a re-up on deodorant, instead. It had clearly been a mistake, and she was paying the price now.

Shampooing her hair quickly and hopping out before the bathroom mirror even had proper time to fog up, Kirby surveyed her reflection from all angles, inventorying the rainbow of bruises - new and old - that covered the backs of her legs and ass, scattering across her torso and arms. Stockings and long sleeves would be the look for the day.

The drive to the hospital was mercifully short, despite her leaving at the beginning of rush hour, and as Kirby swiped herself in, noting the incoming rain clouds in the distance, she felt a little better already. 

However, without distractions like her own hangover, or worrying about getting to work on time, Kirby found her thoughts drifting back to the club, and more specifically: Fallon.

She'd met enough women through the club - and other scenes - in her time, and more than enough newbies, but rarely did she bring the experience home with her. There had been a few amazing sessions that kept her up at night or had her distracted all day at work remembering a particularly fun moment, but she'd found herself thinking about Fallon considerably more than what could be considered standard reminiscing. She wasn't _just_ picturing the taunting amusement in Fallon's tone when she got a particularly interesting reaction out of her, or the stern coldness on her face while she followed through on a threat - she found herself more often picturing the curious, almost flirty look on her face when they drank together, or the way her laugh sounded - her real laugh - when Kirby managed to say something she found funny.

The other woman was practically a stranger, though. She'd learned more about her in the short hour that they'd shared a bottle of wine than she had in the previous three times they'd been at what should have been their most vulnerable with each other. 

It was _just_ like her to start fantasizing about something more with her - she always _did_ fall hard and fast, after all - but now she was probably never going to see her again.

As the workday dragged on, Kirby found herself imagining what coming home to the other woman would be like. Their mutual stress could just melt away while they cooked together - did Fallon even like cooking? Maybe it was more likely that they'd get takeout and curl up on the couch. She'd have to kick her roommate out when they wanted to be alone and she'd worm her hands up under the bottom of the other woman's blouse and -

"Kirby? Earth to Kirby?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, Kirby glanced up from the computer screensaver that she'd been staring blankly at, and focused on the sight of her coworker standing in front of the triage desk, tapping her fingers impatiently on its surface.

"Hm?"

"You were supposed to clock out like ten minutes ago - you good?"

"Oh," Kirby cleared her throat and stood up, grabbing for her key card and nodding. "Yeah - yeah, got distracted. I'll see you Monday."

* * *

She didn't return to the club for almost a week.

It wasn't out of any sort of pathetic emotional protest, but the urge really hadn't struck her now that she didn't have Fallon waiting for her. She knew that she'd get over it eventually, but for the time being, sprawled out under the covers of her own, much more comfortable bed with a jackrabbit and the mental image of rolling around in the sheets with Fallon was a much better use of her time.

She did make time to walk past the building, though, every once in a while. Never going out of her way but never avoiding the opportunity, she would pass by and peer at the blacked-out windows, the signs full of rules pinned to the door under the gold "18 + Only" plaque, waiting for the interest to return. She probably looked pretty pathetic; it had been raining every day since the morning after her last session with Fallon, but she still found the time to go for walks despite the weather.

It wasn't until almost ten days later that she spotted Fallon's familiar car parked about a block away. She wouldn't admit to herself that she picked up the pace and practically jogged the remaining distance to the club, but she did.

The other woman pushed the door open and walked out into the street just as she approached the club, and both of them froze on the spot to stare at one another for a moment.

"Hi," Fallon spoke first.

"Hey," Kirby breathed back, wincing at how out of breath she sounded. "What - what're you doing here?"

Fallon looked back at the door as it finished swinging closed, pursing her lips as if deep in thought, making a decision, and then turned to Kirby again.

"Looking for you."

"Oh," Kirby tried to sound casual, but she was sure that the pounding of her heart was audible even over the sound of the rain.

“Wow, that sounds…” Fallon laughed softly to herself, shaking her head. She was visibly nervous, which Kirby found surprisingly comforting. “I’m not like… a serial killer, or something. I just thought about what you said. And I didn’t know where else, or how else to get ahold of you.”

"Thought about...?" Kirby pressed, despite knowing exactly what she meant.

"The uh... other side." Fallon shifted her weight from one stiletto to the other, glancing up at the small awning that protected them from getting wet as the speed and weight of the rain picked up around them.

"Ah," Kirby nodded once, slowly, then stuffed her hands into her pockets. "And what conclusions did you come to?"

"That it wouldn't hurt to try," Fallon replied. "Well, ‘ _hurt’_ being the operative word -"

Kirby laughed outright and watched Fallon's face break into a tiny, relieved smile at the sound of it.

"So, then?" Kirby cocked her head to the side, surveying her. "What do you want to do?"

"Should we...?" Fallon gestured vaguely back at the door to the club, and Kirby pursed her lips thoughtfully before shaking her head.

"Nah."

" _'Nah'_?"

"Why don't you come back to mine, we can look at the stuff we have there, and -"

"Now who sounds like a serial killer?" Fallon cut her off.

Kirby shot her a look and was only a little surprised when the other woman fell obediently quiet.

" _As I was saying_ , you can look at some of the stuff, we can have a drink, _talk_ , and then we'll go from there. Less pressure, not so… intense.”

Fallon watched her carefully for a moment. Kirby had to wonder if she was internally trying to decide if she didn't trust Kirby, or maybe didn't trust herself.

"Just to talk?" Fallon clarified.

Kirby shrugged.

"Yeah. There's a lot to talk about, first, anyway."

"Okay," Fallon replied after a moment."Yeah. Now? I'm just parked -" she gestured, and Kirby replied before thinking.

"I know. I uh, I saw your car, when I was walking up."

"You knew I was here?" she asked.

Kirby shrugged again.

"I did. Is that an issue?"

"No," Fallon shook her head, before digging into her bag and producing a small, collapsed umbrella. Shaking it out and shoving it open, she held it up hintingly for Kirby to step under its cover with her before the two of them stepped out of the protection of the awning and onto the rain-soaked sidewalk.

“We should stop and pick up a bottle of wine - my roommate should be at work, too.” Kirby couldn’t stop herself from talking, even though the silence didn’t seem to be making the other woman uncomfortable in the least. She wanted to seem confident so that Fallon could be confident in her. She needed some way to explain that she wasn’t nervous about making some kind of exploratory arrangement with her, she was just nervous about being alone with her when she couldn’t stop picturing kissing her.

"Sure." If Fallon was nervous, she didn't show it on the surface. Maybe a little jumpy, at most, going tense every time their arms brushed as they shuffled along together under the umbrella, or answering a little too quickly each time Kirby spoke. She seemed to be erring more on the side of excited than scared, though, which made Kirby feel a little bit better about the entire plan.

True to her mental schedule, Kirby's roommate was mercifully out of the house - and had cleaned up dutifully after herself, leaving the living room spotless and cozy-looking, especially with the grey lighting that was cast over everything through the rainy window.

"You sit, I'll pour."

Fallon moved awkwardly around the space, clearly trying not to look too overly interested in anything as she pulled her scarf from her neck and then began to slowly shrug her coat off of her shoulders. The curiosity in her eye made Kirby begin to wonder what Fallon's place must have looked like. Judging by the general aesthetic that she held herself to, she had to imagine that it was considerably more put together than her own colorfully mismatched cozy apartment. 

"So," Kirby started, standing in the kitchen and watching over the half-wall as Fallon finally made herself 'comfortable', perching stiffly on the edge of the couch. "What made you change your mind?"

"I don't know," Fallon replied, focusing on her cuticles as if they were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. She either didn't realize that Kirby was watching her, or she was purposefully ignoring it. "I just figured you were probably right."

"Really?" Kirby asked. "Not a single ounce of original thought brought you to this conclusion?" She kept her tone light and teasing, if not a little knowing under the surface.

Fallon's blush was visible from where she stood.

"Well, all jokes aside, you seem to know what you're doing with... this stuff. This way, it's not going to keep me up at night wondering if I was missing out on the perfect solution."

Kirby approached the couch, nudging Fallon's knee with hers until she sat back more fully against the throw pillows, and handed her a glass.

"Has it been?" She asked. "Keeping you up at night?"

Her tone was still playful, but she could see Fallon fighting with herself to try to stay honest. Sipping from her glass to avoid having to answer too deeply, probably, the brunette nodded.

"Hm," Kirby settled in beside her, putting a good bit of distance between them, and then sipped from her own glass. "Well, if it doesn't solve anything, it'll at least be fun. Plus, you can cross it off of your bucket list."

Fallon chuckled at that, dropping her gaze and sipping a little more generously from her glass before speaking again.

"So? Where do we start?"

"Well," Kirby replied slowly, "Is there anything specific you wanted to try?"

The other woman's cheeks flushed pink again, and she drowned whatever she was thinking in another sip of wine.

"Not specifically," she replied, after a moment.

Kirby grinned.

"You're lying."

"No," Fallon replied quickly, shaking her head. "I just - I don't know. Really."

"There's _nothing_ you've ever done that you wanted to be on the receiving end of?"

That question seemed to recenter the other woman's thought process, and the embarrassed expression slipped away from her features to make room for a thoughtful one, instead.

" _Well_ ," she started. "Maybe. I don't really want to walk away with real bruises. Or broken skin. I _definitely_ don't want to get peed on."

Kirby laughed before she could stop herself.

"Alright, how about this," she shifted closer to her on the couch, leveling her gaze with her a little more seriously. "You think up a list of things you _definitely don't_ want, and we'll take them off the table. And anything else we come across as we go, you can nix - obviously." 

Fallon nodded.

"But, uh, you _will_ have to learn to ask for what you want," Kirby pointed out, if not just to watch the blush fill her face again as she squirmed in her seat. "I'll make sure of it."

Chuckling nervously into her glass, Fallon caught her eye and then replied, playfully: "Full disclosure, I might like that."

"Full disclosure, I figured that already."

They sipped their wine simultaneously, and Kirby began to regret not making them some kind of snack, first. She felt flirty in the specific way that only red wine seemed to cause. Inhibitions were at an all-time low, but dopamine was coursing through her and making her feel squirmy and giggly.

"Full disclosure," Fallon repeated, "Today... wasn't the first time I went looking for you."

Kirby noted the flush on the other woman's cheeks and realized that it was no longer embarrassment, but simply her own reaction to the wine. She desperately wanted to cup her face and feel how hot her skin was under her fingers.

" _Full disclosure_ ," Kirby shot back, not letting her brain catch up with her mouth for even a moment, "I'm pretty sure I have a crush on you, anyway."

She didn't have time to regret saying it, because Fallon started giggling, and it was the only thing that Kirby could think about until she stopped.

"Does that mean you're going to take it easy on me?"

"No, no," Kirby flapped one hand, shaking her head. She felt lighter for having said it, and Fallon clearly wasn't too bothered. "I like you far too much to ruin this experience for you with something as annoying as _mercy_."

Something shifted between the two of them, for just one moment; they locked eyes - Fallon's hard and darkened - and something like electricity crackled between the two of them before Fallon looked away.

"When're you free next?" She asked.

"We could start as soon as tomorrow night if you want. My roommate stays with her boyfriend on the weekends."

"Oh!" Fallon cleared her throat, shifting on the spot a little before seeming to steel her resolve, and nodding. "Yeah... I can... I can do tomorrow night."

"Are you sure?" Kirby asked, dipping her head to look at her more seriously. "If you have something else you need to do, I -"

"No!" Fallon replied quickly. "I want to do this. I don't have anything else to do."

"Okay," Kirby agreed, continuing to watch her for a sign that she was changing her mind. "I'll... get some stuff together. We can experiment. It'll be... relaxed, okay?"

Fallon caught her eye again, her features softening, and then she nodded.

"I just - I'm usually in the office until a little later. I could try to come around eight?"

It sounded almost like booty call territory, but Kirby agreed before she could let herself think too deeply about it.

"Yeah, eight works."

"Are we... doing this here, then?"

"Unless that makes you uncomfortable," Kirby replied. "Like I said - we're taking it easy, right? Don't exactly need to rent out a room with a full set of medieval stocks when a pair of handcuffs'll work."

Her reminder that they weren't diving in headfirst seemed to relax Fallon a little more, settling into the couch a bit further before running her tongue along her teeth in thought.

"D'you need me to bring anything?"

"Do you have anything?" Kirby shot back disbelievingly.

"No," Fallon admitted slowly. "But I could go... shopping."

The mental image of the other woman standing in the middle of a fetish shop - berating the man behind the counter about the leather quality or poor furniture craftsmanship - made Kirby chuckle to herself, and she stood up from the couch to head back towards the kitchen.

"I have a couple things," she told her, pulling the freezer drawer open and digging around inside for a moment. "You'd be surprised how creative you get when you're sinning on a budget."

Her words obviously struck a chord with the other woman, who in her peripherals shifted to sit up straighter on the couch to see her better. Fallon, with her endless financial resources and her personal research only taking her so far in her fight to grapple for some kind of dominance in her own life - Kirby hoped she hadn't offended her, but didn't have time to dwell on it as she retrieved an ice cube out of the tray and returned to the couch.

"Here, hold this."

Fallon set her glass down and held her hand out helpfully, and Kirby dropped the oversized cube into her palm, trying not to stare as her long fingers wrapped around it slowly.

"I met this couple last year," Kirby started conversationally, sitting back in her own spot, "Really into the... lifestyle of it all, y'know? And she was always finding the hardest way to make him do the easiest tasks. I mean, he loved it, but - you don't have to put someone on a leash to make them feel out of their own control."

Fallon shifted the ice cube to the tips of her fingers, letting the water from its melting drip off of her palm onto the couch between them.

"No," Kirby reached over, taking her hand gently and pressing the ice back into her palm. "As you were."

Fallon locked eyes with her for a moment, the tiniest hint of a curious if not knowing smile ghosting across her face before vanishing. 

"Right," she nodded.

"D'you remember your first move, when we first met?"

Rolling the ice cube uncomfortably in her palm, Fallon looked thoughtful for a moment, but Kirby answered for her.

"You told me not to look."

"Right," Fallon nodded, then chuckled. "You didn't do a great job."

"No," Kirby agreed, laughing in spite of herself. "I didn't. But that's what I mean - you don't need all the fancy equipment to be effective. Some people find a simple ' _hold still_ ' more difficult to grapple with than being tied down."

Watching the implication of her words settle in over the other woman through her facial features alone, Kirby cocked her head to the side, then held her hand out mercifully.

"I'll take that back, now."

Visibly relieved, Fallon dropped the ice cube back into her outstretched palm and wiped her own hand fervently against her pant leg to try to relieve some of the cold sting.

Watching her as she grabbed her wine and took a generous sip, Kirby hummed thoughtfully, then reached for the bottle to top her glass up again.

"This'll be fun."

* * *

Fallon was early the next evening.

Kirby couldn't say that that was particularly surprising - the woman seemed to keep herself on a relatively tight leash - but she was surprised to realize that she hadn't come straight over from the office. She was visibly freshly showered, and not wearing a particularly work-appropriate outfit, shifting from foot to foot nervously when Kirby opened the apartment door.

She wanted to make a joke about it - something about how she didn't need to get dressed up just for her or ask her what kind of hot date she had lined up for after - but she didn't want to put her anymore on edge, and instead opted to quietly let her in and offer her a glass of wine.

"Please," Fallon breathed, setting her jacket aside and stiffly sitting on the edge of the couch.

"You ever done temperature play before?" Kirby asked, pulling the wine from the fridge.

"Wow," Fallon chuckled stiffly. "No 'how was work?'"

"I'm sorry, Fallon," Kirby sighed, turning around to face her over the counter. "How was work?"

"I don't want to talk about work," Fallon replied, sniffing once as she adjusted her almost too-short skirt without standing up. Her tone was playful, though, clearly self-soothing her nerves. "What were you saying?"

Laughing softly, Kirby returned to her side and handed her a glass.

"I said we were going to start slow, didn't I?" Kirby reminded her. "You can get undressed."

Fallon froze, the wine glass halfway to her lips.

"Pardon me?"

"... _Now_?" Kirby reiterated, reaching over and tapping her leg in a gesture for her to get up from where she was sitting.

"I'm going to see you naked at some point, assuming this goes well," she replied, trying to trick herself into feeling as confident as she sounded.

It worked, obviously, because Fallon set her glass down and started unbuttoning her shirt.

"And you?" She asked. "You're going to sit there in a sweatshirt all night?"

"If I want to," Kirby replied coolly. "It's not a hookup."

Her words were almost mean, but they seemed to relax the other woman even further as she untucked her shirt from the waist of her skirt and shrugged it off of her shoulders. 

The lacy black excuse for a bra drew Kirby's eyes in first, and she quickly sipped her wine to avoid appearing too interested. She could always tell how amazing Fallon looked through her clothes, but being presented with a front-row, unobscured view now made her mouth turn dry.

"You wanna take a picture?" Fallon asked.

Kirby chuckled darkly.

"Maybe we should establish your limits before you try _'bratty'_ on for size."

Tipping her glass in an air-’cheer’s sort of gesture, Fallon heeded the warning and took one more sip before putting the half-full glass down and then sitting up straighter.

“Okay, where do we start?”

Kirby followed suit and set her glass aside, then gently slid the coffee table further away from the couch with one foot. 

“Depends - there’s two sides to the temperature thing. You want a massage?”

Fallon eyed her like she’d grown another head, then shook her head slowly.

“Cold it is, then. Sit tight.” Patting her thigh softly, Kirby got up from the couch and headed down the hall towards her bedroom.

Catching sight of herself in her vanity mirror, she grinned goofily and shook her head, letting the insanity of her entire situation settle over her. Not thinking hard enough to ruin the moment, though, Kirby dug around under her bed, mentally noting that she needed a better organization system, and pulled out what she’d been looking for.

Stopping in the kitchen once more on her return trip, she shuffled back into the living room with her armful of supplies to find that Fallon had figured out the television remote and had music quietly playing.

"Sorry," she turned to Kirby. "I just thought -" Her gaze dropped to her arms, and she snorted out loud. "What is that?"

Kirby looked down at what she'd brought, then set down the glass and ice tray. 

"This?" She held up the steel flogger as if it were a perfectly casual thing to be carrying around.

Fallon nodded, narrowing her eyes at it as if it had personally threatened her.

"I don't know if I -"

"It's not for hitting. Have you seriously never seen one of these before?" Kirby approached her slowly, like she was worried the other woman was going to jump up from the couch and make a run for it. Fallon shook her head, and a smug sort of thrill shot through the redhead as she realized that the facade of being fully-researched and expertly experienced was slowly slipping away from Fallon's overall image. 

"Here." She held it out, letting the other woman take it from her, if only to quell her trepidation. 

Taking it from her curiously, Fallon turned it over in her hands and ran her fingers through the fine chains that made up the mean end of it.

"It's not for tonight, anyway," Kirby promised, pouring a few ice cubes into the empty glass, and then reaching out to take it back. "But I'll show you."

Dangling the chains over the glass, and then cramming the entire thing into the ice, Kirby turned her attention back to the other woman and gave her another once over. The high waist of her skirt didn't leave a ton of free real estate, so Kirby plucked at the hem of it gently.

"This should go, too."

Fallon's cheeks burned, visible even in the low overhead lighting of the living room.

Picking up on her hesitation, Kirby shook her head and backpedalled.

"Never mind, it's okay. Next time."

Smiling weakly, Fallon shifted closer to watch as Kirby pulled the flogger back out of the cup, replacing the ice cubes that spilled over onto the coffee table from the movement.

Adjusting the cold handle in her hand, Kirby reached out and brushed the other woman's hair off of one of her shoulders, then reached up to let the chains dangle over her skin, dancing down over her collarbone and the back of her shoulder.

The brunette shivered pleasantly, turning to look at Kirby - only then did she realize how close they were. _God, she wanted to kiss her_ . _She smelled amazing_ \- something floral and familiar that Kirby couldn't quite put her finger on.

"That's not as bad as I was expecting," Fallon told her, her voice barely a whisper. They locked eyes, for a moment, before Kirby dropped her gaze and pulled away, clearing her throat.

"Right? Almost nice," she observed.

Standing up from the couch altogether, and rounding the coffee table to set the flogger on the fireplace mantle, Kirby gestured vaguely over her shoulder at the other woman.

"You can get comfy," she replied, taking her time slowly straightening out each of the chains to give herself a moment to cool down.

She heard Fallon shift behind her, glancing back in time to see her stiffly stretching out on the now-vacant couch. Returning to her side, she gave her a once-over, then surprised both of them by swinging a leg across her hips and straddling her.

Fallon's breath audibly caught in her throat, her hands reflexively landing on Kirby's thighs as she stared up at her expectantly.

"Safeword is 'red'," Kirby told her, reaching for the cup and retrieving two of the cubes.

"Okay, but I don't think I'm going to n-"

Whatever Fallon was 'not going to', Kirby didn't find out, having palmed a piece of ice in each hand and brought her hands abruptly down to the other woman's waist. The brunette arched under her like she'd been electrocuted, literally raising Kirby up from the couch by sheer adrenaline-powered force. Her fingers dug into her thighs even as her elbows snapped down to her sides protectively, but Kirby didn't have a chance to enjoy the butterflies that the other woman grasping at her gave her before the music was drowned out by an unexpectedly loud shriek of surprise.

Kirby kept her hands relatively still, letting the other woman's frantic squirming guide them; letting her twist and press fresh, warm skin into the ice in her hands instead of bothering to trail them around.

"Oh my god, _fuck_ -"

Her complaints were broken up by giggling, and Kirby couldn't help but laugh with her after a moment.

" _Ridiculous_ ," she teased, shifting on her knees and sliding one ice-slicked hand under her back and grinning when she was rewarded with another shriek. The more embarrassed the other woman became the harder it seemed to be to stop giggling, whining loudly about how cold it was, as if that were some sort of news to the redhead.

The nervous-reaction laughter turned into a subdued whimper as Fallon began to run out of patches of warm skin, shivering hard by the time the ice in Kirby's hands was almost completely melted. Sitting back on her haunches, Kirby messily tossed what remained of the pieces into the cup, clapping her hands to her own thighs as she observed her. Breathing heavily, chest heaving, Fallon had given up on covering herself, her arms dead at her sides and her skin gleaming wetly in the fading light from the balcony door.

"I'll let you warm up before we go again - no point wasting ice when you can't even feel it."

"Again?" Fallon asked, tensing in anticipation before Kirby even touched her.

Glancing over at her with an amused look, Kirby quirked an eyebrow. 

“Not if you don’t want to.” She watched Fallon’s face change, visibly letting her train of thought shift from the obvious ‘that was hell’ reaction to truly thinking about it - and whether she wanted to do it again.

“Okay. You have to warn me, this time.” Fallon narrowed her eyes, her lips jutting out into a small pout as she huffily readjusted her skirt that had ridden up so far it was now better suited as a belt, exposing a tease of lace between her legs. Kirby chuckled apologetically.

“I will. That was sort of unfair of me,” Kirby recited some of Fallon’s first words to her back at her, watching her face for a sign of recognition. “I’ll make it up to you.”

* * *

By the time Kirby had finished the second pass with the ice cubes, Fallon's reactions had shifted from nervous laughter to gasps and hisses of protest - Kirby had _gently_ suggested after the second pass that Fallon 'challenge herself' to not reacting outwardly - though none of her suppressed vocalizations changed the way the brunette was _writhing_ around, both under and on top of her once Kirby had moved on to the patch of skin between where her skirt ended and the tops of her knee-high boots began. Fallon was approaching the sensation like it was a game - a game that she could overcome and win - which Kirby knew was an instinct that would take a while to shake. 

By the third time, she didn't need to ask Fallon if she was ready. The brunette, wrapped up in the small throw blanket from the back of the couch to warm up, wordlessly retied her messy hair and then wriggled out of the skirt, pulling what seemed like endless leg out of her boots before sliding closer across the couch.

"Okay. I'm good."

"You're _good_?" Kirby asked.

Fallon glanced up at her, visibly alarmed for a moment before impatience replaced the confusion on her face. She quirked an eyebrow, leaning forward expectantly.

"Yes...?"

She gestured to the slowly-emptying ice cup, then sat up straighter.

Kirby's eyes flicked to the cup, then back to the woman in front of her, a slow smile growing on her face.

"Okay...?"

"Well?" Fallon prodded, growing visibly frustrated.

"Well, what?" Kirby replied, chuckling. "The first two were free. Ask me nicely."

Fallon's realization was visible, but then she set her jaw, clearing her throat.

"Okay." She sounded smaller than she did only a few moments earlier. "Will you... _please_..." She looked at the ice cup again, pursing her lips in thought. "I don't know how to -"

"You can just ask me to touch you. The ice is implied, this time."

Kirby watched Fallon grapple with the words for a moment before she looked at her again, properly.

"Please touch me again."

" _Was that so hard?_ " Kirby teased, scooping two more cubes out of the cup. Fallon made a sound in the back of her throat like she was ready to argue, or protest, but Kirby grabbed her ankle in one hand and clapped her other hand to the underside of her stretched-out knee, smirking at the yelp of surprise she was rewarded with. 

She almost felt a little bit bad for Fallon - she was clearly thinking that she was gaining some kind of upper hand by acclimating herself to the cold. It was likely the last time that Kirby was even going to do this with her; a quick demonstration on the way simplicity was perfectly effective, while also letting her get comfortable being the half-naked one on the receiving end, for once. Unfortunately for the brunette, by squirming around in Kirby's lap and practically panting in her ear every time her hands deftly avoided touching her where she _really_ wanted to be touched, she was only assisting the other woman in making a preliminary inventory of _places_.

Her legs, stretching into the next month and being impossible for Kirby to keep her hands off of even if she wanted to, were miraculously sensitive, a minefield of nerves exploding in fireworks of sensation every time she tickled her fingers up the insides of her thighs or brushed the backs of her knees. 

The ice in her right hand melted enough to be deemed useless, so she wiped her hand against the leg of her pants and planted her cold hand on Fallon's stomach as she moved to sit up.

"Lay still."

Withdrawing the other piece of ice from behind her leg, she tossed it back into the cup. Catching her breath and watching the Kirby with quiet fascination, Fallon's eyes followed the redhead's hands as they both slid up her sides. Shivering, but keeping still, her breath hitched when her fingers stopped on her ribs, just barely brushing the band of her bra.

"Can I take this off?"

Electricity crackled in between them for a moment; Kirby watched the way Fallon's eyes narrowed as her two options battled it out in her mind. Unsurprisingly, her curiosity won, and she nodded very very minutely.

Arching up a little as Kirby's fingers slipped behind her back, she didn't meet her eye even when the redhead leaned in close enough to feel her breath on her cheek, fiddling with the clasp blindly before she triumphed, and gently pulled the piece down Fallon's arms.

"Wow," she breathed before she could stop herself.

She half-expected Fallon to say something playful or snarky in response - maybe blush or some other sort of outward sign of embarrassment - she was not prepared for the brunette to arch her back a little, shifting comfortably and subtly pushing herself up closer to her. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth and worried at it, bringing one hand up to cup one breast subtly as if simply adjusting herself. 

She had _liked_ that reaction. _Interesting._

She was also intentionally being a tease, which simply was not going to do. Kirby had never been particularly aggression-driven or vengeful, but if she and Fallon were only beginning what would hopefully be a long and beneficial rapport, she'd need to nip _that_ in the bud sooner rather than later.

"No, no." She grabbed Fallon's hand, even as it was already leaving her breast to return to the couch, and pinned it with deliberation to the spot beside her head. "I said still. In fact, both hands - up. Now. Can you reach this?" She leaned over the other woman and tapped the tips of her fingers against the arm of the couch closest to her head.

Slowly, Fallon reached up, awkwardly trying to plant both hands against the arm of the couch without twisting her arms too much. She looked just a little more nervous, now, so Kirby pursed her lips, surveying her, then shook her head.

"Here," she fluffed the throw pillow tucked into the corner of the couch and planted it against the arm, nodding to it with her chin. "Put your hands under that."

Her new position seemed much comfier, but the trepidation was still visible on her face.

"Comfier?"

"Yes," she sounded much smaller than she had before.

"You can stay still, like that?" Kirby's question clearly sounded much deeper than it was, because Fallon didn't answer for a long moment.

"Yeah, 's'comfortable."

"That wasn't what I asked," Kirby pointed out. "If I shocked you, would you be able to stay like that?"

"Probably not," Fallon replied honestly, her tone surprisingly meek.

"So you see what I'm saying, about not needing all of the fancy stuff." Kirby leaned away from her to grab one of the last remaining unmelted ice cubes from the cup, then carefully straddled her thighs.

Fallon nodded, adjusting herself a little when Kirby settled in, clearly psyching herself up. Her reaction made Kirby chuckle, before popping the ice cube into her mouth.

"Hold still," she reminded her, much more playfully, her words were muffled by the ice cube. 

Leaning down, she gently grabbed the underside of her left breast, holding it up and still, then blew a soft stream of ice-cold breath across her already hard nipple.

She'd sort of been expecting a gasp or another one of her increasingly hilarious nervous reactions. She hadn't been expecting Fallon's hand to immediately bury into her hair, a high, soft whine escaping her lips before it morphed into a moan. 

Correcting her error before Kirby had the chance to, her hand jolted back as if she were burned, burying back under the pillow quickly as if she thought she would be able to act like it hadn't happened.

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean -" she spoke quickly, her words slipping together in her panic as Kirby lifted her head and spat the ice cube into her hand.

"'S'okay," Kirby promised, before grabbing her bra from the floor and dropping it unceremoniously onto her torso. "You can put that back on."

"W-hat?"

Kirby slid off of her legs, standing up and tossing the ice cube from her hand into the glass, then picking the entire thing up and turning to head back towards the kitchen.

"Wait -" Fallon sat up quickly, and Kirby could hear her fighting with the straps of her bra behind her. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"Fallon," Kirby chuckled in disbelief, rounding the counter and pouring the ice and water out into the sink. "Stop apologizing. I'm not mad."

"Then _why_ are you -"

"You asked me to do something, I asked you to do something. And you didn't. I know I said we were keeping it light, but rules are rules."

She glanced up over the counter, sighing with a tiny smirk at the sight of the brunette, who had shifted from worried and apologetic to visibly pouty and annoyed.

"Oh, _brother_."

Grabbing their open wine bottle from earlier, Kirby hazarded a glance at the clock only to find that they'd been at it for hours - she'd certainly lost track of time - and knew that they'd have to call it quits for the night, anyway. 

"Here," she refilled Fallon's glass as she returned, then her own, sitting down on the other end of the couch as the brunette huffily redressed herself.

" _Thanks_ ," she replied shortly, still pouting but accepting the wine nonetheless.

“It might help to ask me nicely to tie you up,” Kirby told her, trying to keep the teasing tone out of her voice. It was fun to prod at her, but she didn’t want to piss her off enough that she didn’t want to come back or try again.

Fallon’s eyes flicked to hers over the rim of her glass, but she said nothing.

“Something like… ‘I can’t help myself and I need you to tie my hands up,’ would be appropriate.”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed defiantly, and then she asked,

“Will you?”

“Will I what, Fallon?”

“Tie me up.”

“And _why_ would I do that?” Kirby couldn’t keep herself from grinning any longer, sipping from her glass as the brunette shifted on the spot, cheeks turning pink.

“Because… I can’t help myself, and I need you to.” Fallon’s voice grew softer with each word until she was barely audible, but Kirby didn’t call her on it. It was a pretty good start.

Pursing her lips as if truly considering it, Kirby cocked her head to the side, letting the other woman squirm for a moment.

“No. Next time, maybe.”

Gaping at her in incredulity, Fallon set her glass down on the table and leaned over to swat at her when she burst into laughter.

Batting her hand away harmlessly, Kirby got her giggling under control and shook her head.

“What about tomorrow night?”

Fallon seemed a little startled by the idea, but didn't vocalize it.

"I have family dinner. Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

Kirby mentally checked her schedule, then shook her head. "Not until later on in the evening, supposed to meet with some friends. What about the afternoon?"

"I can do that," Fallon replied, picking up her glass again for another sip. "Anything I should be ready for ahead of time?"

Her tone was a little more playful, now, but there was a hint of seriousness underneath it.

"Nope," Kirby replied, popping the 'p' on the word, and then slamming the last of her own glass. "Let me walk you out."

Setting her glass down quickly, leaving only the dregs and a lipstick mark behind, Fallon stood up and smoothed out her skirt, looking around before spotting the jacket that she'd come in with and pulling it on. 

As they headed into the hallway towards the elevator, Kirby hit the 'lobby' button and then turned to the brunette scrutinizingly for a moment. When Fallon turned to her questioningly, she reached out and gently took a section of her hair on each side of her face - even softer than she'd imagined it would be, she noted - and brushed them both back, holding them up gently.

"Hair up, tomorrow, I think."

Fallon stared at her for a long moment; Kirby wondered what she'd said or done to warrant the level of intensity in her gaze, but then, it passed. Fallon took her hair from the other woman's hands and held it up herself in a loose caricature of an updo.

"Like this?"

"Yeah," Kirby nodded. "Nothing fancy. I don't want your neck hidden."

Before Fallon could ask what the reason was, the elevator door slid open and Kirby gestured for her to step inside. Giving her a short wave, the doors closed as she turned around, leaving her alone in the lift car to process all of the possibilities alone. 

  
Knowing full well that Fallon was probably already reeling from overthinking, Kirby smiled smugly to herself, then pivoted on her heel to head back to her apartment for what would likely be a _much_ more satisfying night of sleep than the one Fallon would be having.

* * *

Fallon texted her at noon the following day, clarifying that there were no specific requirements and to nail down an actual time to meet.

_'Something you can sweat in,'_ Kirby had texted back. _'What time is your dinner?'_

Fallon answered almost at the same moment.

_'Not until 7.'_

_'Let’s aim for 3. Drink water.'_

Smirking to herself as she locked her phone and tucked it away, Kirby busied herself with fixing lunch, continuing to replay highlights from the night before in her mind. She'd expected to have a good sleep, but had admittedly been a little too excited to climb into bed tiredly and pass out as she'd planned. It had taken a few rounds to... work the thought of Fallon out of her system, and even then, the promise of the next session they'd be having together kept her too giddy to clear her head.

She managed to keep herself busy with nothingness until two, before realizing that the couch wasn't going to be suitable for the day’s activities, and she'd need to make her bedroom more presentable. The underbed restraints seemed a little excessive - and they only worked with all four limbs held tightly, using the tension from each other to keep the wearer in place. They were soft cuffs, a mild kit available at just about any novelty store, but the idea of being almost totally immobilized was _probably_ a little intense for the other woman so quickly.

Wrestling the system out from under the mattress was a workout in itself, and Kirby was beginning to sweat herself by the time she replaced it with a simple pair of padded cuffs on a spreader bar locked to the slatted headboard of the bed. She had just finished replacing the sheets with fresh linens from the dryer when her door buzzed to let her know that Fallon had arrived.

Tugging the bed a little further away from the wall, Kirby scampered over to the door to buzz the other woman in, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror hung in the foyer. Finger-combing her disheveled hair out carefully, she double-checked her lipstick and listened for the telltale signs of the elevator opening, followed by Fallon's signature heels on the hall floors.

Wrenching the door open before the other woman could even knock, Kirby quirked an eyebrow at her and tried not to look too excited to see her.

"Hey...?" Fallon raised an eyebrow back, mirroring her, half-smiling nervously as she sidestepped her and let herself into the apartment. "What’s that look for?"

"There's no look," Kirby promised, gently catching Fallon by the crook of the elbow as she moved to head into the living room, and steering her towards the hallway to the bedrooms instead.

"Oh," Fallon chuckled, skidding along the carpet a little as she resisted. "God, no wine, this time?"

"Mm-mm." Kirby shook her head, sliding past Fallon to lead the way, instead. "You thirsty?"

"No," she replied slowly. "You _did_ say 'drink water'.

"I did," Kirby nudged the bedroom door open further, ignoring the overhead light switch in favour of the late afternoon sun filtering through the gossamer curtains on her window and the soft glow from her nightstand lamp. 

"Should I, um -" Fallon gestured at herself, standing stagnant in the doorway when Kirby turned to her.

"What?"

"What... how do you want me?"

Kirby's mind travelled a million miles for a hot second, before she shook the thought and gestured vaguely at the bed, finally taking in the other woman's appearance. 'Something to sweat in' had clearly been a little vague, because she looked about the same as she usually did - until she slid past Kirby to perch on the edge of the bed and pull her shirt over her head and began to shimmy out of her slacks.

The lacey lingerie from the day before was long gone, replaced by a completely simple white cotton-esque set. It was somehow still impossibly sexy, and Kirby found herself looking away while the woman undressed, as if she weren't about to see it all up close. 

"I know, they're not exactly _cute_ , but -"

"You look fine. You're focusing on the wrong thing," Kirby assured her, watching her settle back in to undo the straps of her heels. "I promise, in ten minutes you won't even be thinking about it."

Fallon chuckled softly at that, if not a little nervously, then kicked her heels and clothing gently under the bed and out of sight.

"Okay," she breathed, looking up at Kirby before pointing over her shoulder at the spreader bar that separated the cuffs from one another. "I'm assuming that’s for me."

"If you'd like," Kirby replied, instead of the sarcastic response that bubbled up in her mouth on reflex.

"Well, that depends," Fallon countered. "What're we doing today, professor?"

Kirby felt a distinct twinge somewhere in the region of ‘between her legs’ and closed her eyes briefly. _Interesting_.

"It's my _expert_ opinion that you would like the cuffs."

There was a clear war being waged in Fallon's mind as she looked between the spreader bar and Kirby. It was a surprisingly difficult choice, and she knew that from experience - on the one hand, there was the risk of really needing it; something to help maintain control when one couldn't do it themselves, but at the same time, the immobility could be disconcerting.

Kirby pretended not to notice her hesitation, giving her room to back out.

“Just my arms?” 

The redhead ignored the question, replying with one of her own, instead.

"You remember your safeword?"

Fallon looked up at her sharply, seeming to remember for the first time. The more casual setting had seemed to make her forget the basic ground rules that were still in place. She relaxed visibly, then nodded.

"Yeah." Shifting to lay back, she propped herself up on her elbows and watched Kirby flit around the room before returning to her side and gently taking one of her wrists.

"Tight?" Kirby asked softly, pulling the strap of the first cuff snugly around her wrist, and then experimentally shaking it. Fallon's arm flopped loosely with it before she stiffened and nodded. Satisfied, Kirby moved on to the second side, kneeling against the bed at her side for balance.

Pulling her arms down as far as they could go, Fallon looked between both of her hands and then relaxed her shoulders to let Kirby pull the entire bar up, latching it closer to the head of the bed until the other woman began to slide up the sheets with it.

"That feel okay?"

"S'fine," Fallon promised.

"I mean how do _you_ feel?"

Fallon considered for a moment, then cleared her throat.

"A little exposed."

"How about now?" Kirby swung a leg over her hips, straddling her waist and pinning her midsection to the bed. She felt her shift experimentally under her.

"A lot exposed."

"Makes a big difference, right?" Kirby shifted forward to reach for the items stacked on the window ledge, then sat back against Fallon's hips and looked her in the eye. "So, today is going to take some prep work. But I know you're cooperative, so we should be alright."

Fallon craned her head down to peer at the items that Kirby dropped at her side, feeling them roll along the dip in the mattress and press against her waist.

“I’m getting to that,” Kirby chided, gently cupping her chin and tilting her head back to look up again. The brunette stared at her and Kirby was hit with the overwhelming need to kiss her again. Squashing the thought away, she quirked an eyebrow playfully. “You’re a _mess_ of erogenous zones, did you know that?”

Fallon’s cheeks burned red quickly, and she averted her gaze as Kirby let go of her.

“I bet you’re a screamer,” she continued, smirking to herself when Fallon made a frustrated noise of protest in the back of her throat. “Alright, alright. Enough bullshit, I know.”

She organized the items in her hands, then held them up one by one for the brunette to look at.

“Step one,” the tiny, rubber-ended soft nipple clamps. “Step two,” the bullet vibrator. “Step three,” a single long, stiff eagle feather.

Fallon shifted under her, nodding at the clamps as Kirby set them aside first.

“I don’t know about those.”

“But these are okay?” Kirby chuckled, holding the other two items up and shaking them in gesture. She didn’t push it, though, picking the clamps up again by the chain that connected them, and beginning to coil the chain around her finger to keep it from tangling. 

“I’m sure you could use any number of random objects in this room to make my life a living hell, I don’t know why I’d fight it,” Fallon sighed, turning her gaze to the ceiling behind Kirby’s head. Still, the tiniest hint of a defeated, amused smile ghosted across her lips. “Hey - I didn’t say ‘no’ to the clamps just yet.”

Fallon’s protest stopped Kirby in her tracks as she moved to get up from the bed and put them away.

“Like I said, I’m not sure I’ll be thrilled about anything you have planned. Maybe I was just making conversation.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very funny?” Kirby asked, grinning as she returned to the bed and sat alongside the other woman.

Fallon pulled her lower lip between her teeth, the tiniest flattered chuckle escaping before she could help herself.

“Let me see the clamps,” she insisted. Considering commenting, Kirby decided to make a mental note of the demand, instead, filing it away for later, but dutifully unwinding the set of clamps and holding them up close to the other woman’s bound hand.

“They’re gentle,” she promised, softly opening and closing the tips against the skin on the side of her hand. “See?”

Fallon considered for a moment, then cleared her throat and nodded.

“Yeah. That’s okay. If I want them off, is that - does that mean none of this is happening?”

Kirby smiled, both brows raising in mild surprise before she reached for the adjustment hooks on the other woman’s bra straps, beginning to loosen it away from her.

“You’re really into this, huh?”

“I told you I’d give it a fair chance,” Fallon replied, a little too quickly, before admitting, “S’fun.”

“See, you _say_ that,” Kirby began, loosening the straps enough, and softly cupping each breast one by one to free them from the bra cups as she slid it down around her ribs. “But I feel like you’re not going to want to be friends anymore once you realize I’m not planning to use the feather to tickle you with.”

Fallon watched the clamps and then closed her eyes as they drew closer, taking a deep, relaxing breath as Kirby attached the first side painstakingly slowly.

“Oh,” she breathed, exhaling heavily as Kirby moved on to the other side. “These aren’t so bad - _wait_ , what did you say the feather was for, then?”

“That’s step three,” Kirby reminded her, sitting back on her haunches to admire her handiwork, before sliding Fallon’s bra up over her head, letting it hang behind her from her restrained arms.

“Yeah, but still, what’re you -”

“Let’s survive step two, first, hm?” Not giving the other woman a chance to answer, Kirby punctuated the hypothetical by flicking the bullet on, filling the small room with buzzing.

* * *

"Did you just cum?" Kirby glanced up - she'd only looked away for a moment, but there had been a telltale shake in the other woman's legs, her breathing picking up loudly and then stopping altogether for a moment. When Kirby looked at her again, now, she looked visibly euphoric.

Fallon didn't answer for a moment, so Kirby cranked the bullet up to the next speed, pressing it between her legs more insistently and watching the other woman’s eyes practically roll back. 

"No?"

" _YES_ !" Fallon exclaimed, with surprising anger and force behind it. "You didn't say _not_ to and you won't tell me what you're doing, I swear to god -!"

"You're right," Kirby replied calmly, shutting the bullet off and tossing it aside gently, watching as it rolled off of the side of the bed and clattered to the floor. "But I still asked you a question."

"I didn't want you to cut everything off and kick me out like last time," Fallon huffed. Kirby reared back in surprise to look at her, but she was intentionally avoiding her eye. 

"It was late and I told you to hold still," Kirby pointed out, raising an eyebrow and continuing to try to catch her gaze.

Fallon finally turned to her, setting her jaw. Kirby thought that she was going to ask to be let out, putting the rest of their plans to a halt out of pure annoyance. Her entire expression softened when they locked eyes, though, and then she cleared her throat quietly, running her tongue across her teeth in a nervous, fidgety sort of gesture.

"Are we still doing step three, or what?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask," Kirby grinned at her, then surprised herself - and Fallon - by leaning over and pressing her lips to her forehead. She froze awkwardly for a moment, before deciding to press on confidently as though it were a simple reassuring gesture, sitting back and softly tapping one finger on the waistband of the other woman's panties.

"Can I take these off of you, now?"

"Please," Fallon breathed, both of them chuckling softly - mostly in mutual relief that the tense air had been cleared so quickly.

Gently peeling the now-ruined panties down her legs and tossing them aside dismissively, Kirby turned her attention back to Fallon and chuckled.

"You can't possibly be shy _now_ ," she teased, placing a hand on each of her knees and prying them gently but firmly open from where she'd practically crossed them and curled into herself. The other woman resisted, only for a moment, and Kirby realized with a sharp jolt of giddy affection that she was doing so out of playful spite, grinning when Kirby managed to maneuver her into a more relaxed position.

"What's step three?" Fallon asked once she had surrendered, looking up at the redhead expectantly.

"Making you cum again," Kirby replied conversationally, scooting down to settle between the other woman's legs and letting her rest one up over her shoulder comfortably. "It'll take a little longer than that first one, though."

Fallon was completely quiet for a moment, and Kirby swore she could _hear_ the gears turning in her mind as she tried to process what she had said. Helping her along, Kirby reached up and retrieved the eagle feather from earlier, dragging it down her side from her ribs to her hip. The other woman stiffened very abruptly, every muscle in her body going fully tense and her legs jerking involuntarily.

"Oh, _shit_. I—"

"Yeah," Kirby chuckled. "Not soft like you were expecting, huh? Almost _itches_. Definitely doesn't tickle."

Fallon said nothing, but Kirby did notice the uptick her breathing had taken, the flat plane of her stomach rising and falling much more rapidly as her mind still tried to wrap around the fleeting sensation from a second earlier.

Bringing the plume end to rest gently at the top of her pubic bone, Kirby held it absolutely still, waiting.

"Y'know, it's a good thing I didn't make a bet earlier when I said I thought you'd be a screamer. I can admit when I'm wrong - but I have a good feeling about this one. Wanna make it really interesting? Friendly wager?" Fallon was silent, save for the soft clinking of the restraints moving as she undoubtedly grabbed the bar and held on for dear life. "How long do you think you'll take? I wouldn't err anywhere less than an hour - assuming you don't tap out before that."

"Are you going to do it, or just try to get me to safeword into not having to hear you ramble?"

Kirby laughed out loud.

"I told you you were funny," she mused, wasting no time in pressing a single digit against either side of her labia and holding her open. "Remember, it's 'red'."

With that, she brought the implement down against her, closing her eyes for a quick moment to savour the first strangled keen of surprise.

* * *

"Okay, you're fine. Here." 

Still holding onto the other woman's hand that she had freed from the first cuff, Kirby leaned over and grabbed her water bottle from the nightstand and snapped the cap open with her thumb. Propping herself up on her one elbow, Fallon reached for it, wincing and rolling her neck.

"Let’s not do that again." Her voice was so cracked and broken that if Kirby hadn't been watching her carefully when she spoke, she wouldn't have been able to comprehend the squeaks that came out of her.

"I thought you were going to pass out," the redhead told her. "Why didn't you say something?"

Fallon seemed to give up on trying to sit up and drink at the same time, defeatedly tucking the bottle to her side as Kirby leaned over to undo her other wrist.

“I could’ve held out,” Fallon told her. “I wouldn’t have _liked_ it, but…” She trailed off, unhooking the first clamp slowly with a hiss, then catching Kirby’s eye and smirking the tiniest bit. 

Shaking her head, and biting her lip to keep her comments to herself, Kirby dropped her gaze and then held the bottle out to her again. 

“Don’t get up.” She stood from the bedside and retrieved the pillows from beneath it, snugly tucking one behind Fallon’s head as she returned to her side. The brunette barely acknowledged her, chugging most of the water bottle thirstily before wiping the corner of her mouth. She’d chewed almost all of her lipstick off, her liner streaked and smudged from tears. Grabbing Fallon’s phone from the top of her open purse, Kirby handed it to her and cleared her throat. “Call your parents, tell them you’re skipping dinner. We should talk.”

“What is it?” Fallon frowned immediately, sitting up a little more despite Kirby’s request.

“You’re kind of a mess,” she replied, gesturing at her. “You can shower here and then we’ll talk. And eat.”

"Yes to the shower," Fallon sighed, already moving to swing her legs over the bed and get up. "But I really do have to go."

"Please?"

Fallon tucked one foot under the bed, using it to slide the pile of her clothing out into view. 

"What did you want to talk about?"

"You. And all of this," Kirby replied. She caught Fallon's eye for a moment, and chalked up her next tired, defeated response up to the other woman's exhaustion.

"Fine."

Kirby stood as well, reaching out to touch her arm in what she hoped would be a reassuring gesture, startling back when Fallon made a loud noise of protest and shied away from her.

"Christ," she breathed, whirling around to face her. "Please don't do that. I feel like every single one of my nerves is carrying electricity."

Kirby chuckled despite her earlier worry - Fallon seemed fine. A little shaken, maybe, but she hadn't made any effort to ask Kirby to stop during, and even now, she seemed to be in okay spirits.

"Right. Well, have fun showering."

Clutching her clothing to her chest and practically waddling out of the room, Fallon muttered to herself under her breath. Waiting until she heard her turn on the light and fan in the bathroom, Kirby began to pull the damp sheets from the bed and unhook the spreader bar from the headboard.

Once the water was running, audible from down the hall, Kirby dug through her drawers for a clean t-shirt and underwear, then stopped in the linen closet in the hallway for a fresh towel as well, poking just her arms through the crack in the bathroom door to set the pile on the vanity countertop.

It was nearing five o'clock, and Kirby was supposed to meet up with a few friends from work around six, but she wasn't sure how long her conversation with Fallon was going to run, or how she would be feeling afterwardafterward. The other woman seemed outwardly uninterested in even answering a simple question about how she was feeling after everything; it didn't bode well for any potential aftercare attempts.

Maybe reassurance that she was fine was all the other woman needed, though. Being seen as tough and independent after spending an hour crying in frustration and screaming to _please just make her cum already_ , jumping out of her skin at the most casual of contact.

After taking the majority of the contents of the produce drawer out from the fridge, Kirby listened for the sound of the water draining in the bathroom - _she had been in there a while_ \- and then got to work on pulling out bowls and cutting boards.

She was becoming increasingly aware of how nice it was to just have Fallon around in her space - regardless of the context. Making a salad to pretend that the takeout they'd be eating for dinner was a moderately balanced meal, waiting for Fallon to get out of the shower and put some comfortable clothes on so they could sit on the couch together and _talk_.

No matter how hard she tried to crush the fantasy down, it pervaded her every thought. That was _not_ the arrangement. She and Fallon were _friends_. 

So wrapped up in her thoughts, Kirby didn't hear the water shut off, the sound of the drain, or Fallon padding along into the kitchen.

"I ordered us dinner, from Miller Union. You're not like, a vegan or something, right?"

Jumping in surprise and cleanly sliding the blade of her mercifully dull paring knife along the side of her finger, Kirby whirled around to face the other woman and popped her finger into her mouth before it could bleed.

"Hm? Yeah, no, that's fine. You didn't need to do that."

Her voice was muffled around the digit in her mouth, and as she pulled it out to examine it, she realized that she'd been spared any bloodshed - the skin was barely broken, like a mild papercut.

"Jesus," Fallon strode over to her much more quickly, grabbing her hand and peering down at her finger, before squeezing it. "Is it bleeding?"

"No, it's totally fine. I don't sharpen my knives often enough, anyway," Kirby assured her, only then realizing how close they were to one another. Fallon's brow was furrowed in concern, her lips downturned into an unfortunately adorable frown. "Hey."

Looking up at her face, the frown slowly leaving her features, Fallon stared at her curiously.

"You're kind of short when you're not wearing high heels."

Snorting, Fallon let go of her hand and pulled away, rolling her eyes. She still had a bit of a tremor in her step, her hand shaking when she set it on the counter and leaned against it to peer at the redhead before she spoke again.

"So? Are we having this talk now, or later?"

"I was thinking aftercare, dinner, then talk."

"I told you that I was fine," Fallon reminded her. "I'm still kind of sensitive. I just need to relax."

"It got a little intense, for a minute," Kirby agreed, nodding slowly. She jutted her chin at the other woman, then tilted her head towards the hallway she'd just emerged from. "I'm guessing that getting off in the shower didn't help?"

Fallon's jaw slackened a little before she started to protest.

"I didn't -"

"Didn't get off? Or were you about to lie and say you didn't even try?" Kirby fixed her with a knowing look before returning to the cutting board, grabbing a new knife, and getting back to work chopping vegetables.

Fallon fell quiet, before replying again.

"I uh, couldn't."

"S'Okay," Kirby promised, not looking up. "It wouldn't have been that good, anyway. Too much build-up."

"I'll say," Fallon breathed, wringing a laugh out of the redhead as she tossed a handful of fresh radishes into the nearest bowl. "I didn't realize it could... be like that."

Kirby glanced up at her for a moment, finally taking in her appearance. She'd opted for the t-shirt, but had put the slacks from earlier back on. It almost looked intentional - modern casual-business sexy. 

"Didn't realize what could be like that?”

"Edging."

"Ah," Kirby turned her attention back to the bowl, pointing at one of the bags of produce with the tip of her knife. "D'you eat cauliflower?"

"Sure," Fallon replied hurriedly, shifting on the spot. "What's the usual? Aftercare-wise."

"Well, that sort of depends on the person." Kirby glanced up at her briefly. "I'd offer you a massage, but I'm not sure you really want me to-"

"Okay," Fallon cut her off; a little too quickly; a little too loudly.

"Okay?"

"Okay, massage," she clarified, wringing her hands together before seeming to notice she was doing it and dropping them to her sides loosely.

"Alright." Kirby set the knife down, wiping her hands over the sink. "You can go sit. There’s a lotion jar on the mantle. You want a glass of wine?"

"Desperately," Fallon replied dramatically, smirking when she caught the other woman's eye before rounding the counter and heading into the living room.

Kirby kept a careful eye on her as she tidied up the counters and replaced the prepped vegetables into the fridge. Maybe Fallon was a little bit tougher than she’d been giving her credit for. Still - she really hadn’t seemed to let go - at least not in any lasting sort of way. Kirby had thought she was close for a minute while she had her tied down there, touching her over and over until she was dripping wet, never increasing pressure, never increasing tempo. But, here she was now, sitting comfortably on the couch and attempting to return them to their usual banter as if nothing had happened.

"So, I know I asked early on," Kirby began, pulling wine from the fridge and hunting down two clean glasses in the mismatched cupboard. "But is there not anything you personally want to try?"

"What else did you have in mind?" Fallon asked.

"That isn't what I asked," Kirby pointed out, tracking down a pair of glasses and picking them up by the stems in one hand, clutching the cool bottle in the other. 

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?" Fallon shot back, continuing the pattern of answering with more questions. She shifted aside as Kirby came to sit down beside her, making room and then reaching out to help her set everything down on the coffee table. "What turns me on?"

She sounded confident - almost cocky - but Kirby kept her tone as unwavering as possible when she replied.

"Oh, I know what you're into." Sliding the drawer of the coffee table open, she pushed a deck of cards and a candle lighter aside, grabbing a bottle opener and two coasters. "I'm not just here to get you off, though. You _did_ say you were open to trying to let go."

"What am I into?" Fallon took the glass she was handed, and leaned in closer, resting her elbow on her knee. Kirby looked up as she leaned over for her own glass, and stared blankly at the other woman for a moment. 

"You're still doing it, right now," Kirby gestured at her. "Not letting go. Needing to be in control of everything."

One of Fallon's eyebrows ticked ever-so-slightly upward in curiosity, but she didn't argue. Sitting back, Kirby sipped from her glass and then set it aside, picking up the lotion that Fallon had grabbed instead.

"Whatever. Give me your arm."

Fallon obliged, offering her non-wine arm before taking a sip from her glass. Warming a tiny bit of lotion between her fingers, the redhead slowly slid her hands up either side of the other woman's arm, glancing up at her face for a reaction.

She stiffened, for a moment, and then seemed to immediately melt, unconsciously leaning closer as she spoke next.

"I thought letting you take the reins on everything would be a good introduction to letting go,"

"That isn't true," Kirby chuckled. " _Liar_ . You just don't want to tell me all of your dirty little interests, and that’s fine." She paused her massage, sitting back a little and frowning. "Wow. I could have _started_ with interrogation and gotten all of it out in the open right at the beginning. Ah well, too late now."

"It's not a lie!" Fallon insisted indignantly.

"Remember when I said that I was intuitive?" Kirby asked, dipping her fingers back into the lotion pot and then scooting closer to start on her upper arm. Fallon didn't get to answer, wincing away and hissing softly under her breath. The entire playful guise dropped, and Kirby let go of her quickly, pulling her hands away.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. My muscles are sort of knotted up. Continue... please."

"Got it," Kirby replied, leaning back to grab her glass and have another sip. She danced the very tips of her fingers down from crook of her elbow to her wrist, intending to be comforting, if not soothing, and almost choked on her wine when Fallon gasped loudly.

"Oh god," she breathed, chuckling as she pulled her arm away and shook her head. "No, that's - mm-mm."

"When I said you were a mess of erogenous zones, that's what I meant," Kirby told her, reaching for her arm again and finding a good balance between the two pressures. Letting out a tiny moan of appreciation, Fallon slid even closer still and closed her eyes for a moment.

"You could be nicer to me," she said, after a moment. 

"What about vulnerability means I'm being mean?" Kirby asked, chuckling as she let go of her arm and gestured for her to give her the other. 

"I can be vulnerable," Fallon protested. "I contain multitudes."

"I guess I _did_ just make you cry," Kirby hummed.

"Hey -" she sat up a little, frowning as she handed Kirby her other arm. "I didn't - that's not _actual_ crying. I was _frustrated_ , not _emotional_."

"’ _Frustrated’_ is an emotion, Fallon."

It was quiet for almost a full minute until Fallon spoke again.

“I don’t really cry that much. Not for any particular reason.”

It was an interesting but ultimately useless piece of information, but Kirby felt her heart rate pick up excitedly nonetheless, because the other woman had volunteered it without any prodding.

“You don’t have to cry,” Kirby pointed out. “Not to be vulnerable - not to let go. I mean, sometimes it helps, but, it’s not necessary. There are plenty of other ways.”

“Like?” Fallon turned around on the couch entirely, shifting to face the back of it to give Kirby better access to her arm.

“Honesty. Emotional vulnerability like letting yourself be happy, or _relaxed_.”

She swept her fingers back up, wrist to elbow, but aside from a tense twitch of surprise, Fallon didn’t react this time. _Interesting._

“You’re quite the expert,” the other woman told her, her voice much softer and subdued, now. Her words were heavy with double meaning, but Kirby didn’t point it out.

“I feel what I feel,” she replied, shrugging. “D’you want me to do your back?”

She slowly let go of her arm, letting it rest at the other woman’s side again before she moved in a silent request, turning her back to Kirby and then shifting to lean forward over her own legs.

Taking that as a definitive _‘yes’_ , the redhead re-upped the lotion on her hands and gently crept her hands up the back of her t-shirt. Fallon’s skin was unexpectedly cool under her fingers, indicating that her shower had been a cold one, but Kirby couldn’t guess whether that was because she couldn’t get off, or her skin was just too sensitive from the heat in the room earlier.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

Kirby considered her question for a moment before answering with a question of her own.

“Do you really want to know?”

“After today? Yes.”

Humming and kneading her fingers carefully into the other woman’s skin, she pushed the shirt up further for better access.

“I’ll tell you if you can make me a promise.”

“What promise?” Fallon asked.

“I’ll tell you, in as much or little detail as you want, everything planned for tomorrow - but you have to really just _let go_. It’s not an endurance sport, okay? It’s supposed to be about not having to micromanage and control every part of something.”

Fallon huffed out a little breath, and Kirby didn’t need to see her face to know that she was pouting.

“Okay. Fine. Tell me.”

The door buzzer startled both of them, and Kirby leapt up from the couch.

“That’s probably the food. I’ll go get it.”

Knowing she’d have the distraction of dinner to keep the other woman from asking too many questions once she returned, Kirby grabbed a sweater from the front hall and swung the door open, glancing back just in time to see Fallon stretching out comfortably on the couch.

* * *

Having finally changed back into _all_ of her own clothes and been successfully fed, Fallon headed out for the night around 8:30. Once Kirby realized how much time they’d spent together, she felt almost nervous, but if Fallon was put-off at all by it, she didn’t show it on the surface.

They'd made quick work off the takeout that Fallon had picked and inhaled the entire salad that Kirby had made before she offered an encore to her earlier massage. Kirby was a little amazed at how pliable and easy-going Fallon was once she was properly fed. She hadn't complained once when Kirby found a particularly sore spot, or when she pointed out the knots in the backs and tops of her shoulders - a work-related stress injury that was in the making for much longer than their afternoon session had lasted. The massage was enlightening, at least for Kirby. She found a tiny scar on her knee that she cited was from surgery years prior; another scar followed the line of her spine so perfectly that it was nearly invisible at first glance - Fallon told it was a horseback riding injury from when she was a child. Accidentally brushing her ears when she moved to pull her hair back from her neck for her pulled the softest, almost imperceptible squeal out of her - which Fallon claimed was reflexive. Apparently, she was terribly grossed out by bugs, and the sensation always reminded her of them. Dozens of erogenous spots littered her stomach and thighs, each one making her more breathless than the last upon discovery. 

Additionally, on the front of self-discovery, Kirby learned that if she didn't cut the nonsense and get to be with Fallon - for real, no games, no experiments - she was going to go insane.

The food and massage had been the perfect distraction, just like Kirby had suspected, and it wasn’t until fifteen minutes after Fallon left that she got a text from her, outraged that she’d been had.

_‘You never told me about tomorrow!!’_

_‘Did we decide on tomorrow?’_ Kirby typed back, grinning at her screen when she pictured the other woman’s impatient frustration. _‘I guess I can fit you in.’_

_‘You’re funny.’_

It was sarcastic, not a real compliment, but Kirby still bit her lip, feeling her cheeks heat up as she desperately tried to straighten the grin off of her face. 

_‘My roommate gets home tomorrow morning. How does 8PM sound at the club? I’ll meet you out front?’_ Kirby fired off the request, opening the club’s online reservation form, scrolling through and hovering over the time as she waited for Fallon’s answer.

_‘Make it 8:30. I’m intrigued.’_ She’d capped off the message with a smirking emoji.

Locking their time in and tossing her phone aside before she could embarrass herself by adding anything else, Kirby got up to tidy up the living room and return everything to its spot, then headed down the hall to the laundry room to start cleaning the sheets.

* * *

For once, it was Kirby that was early for her meeting with Fallon.

Standing outside in the warm evening air, she fiddled with the pack of cigarettes in her jacket pocket and talked herself in and out of lighting one, back and forth, for several minutes until Fallon arrived. 

The sound of her heels on the pavement alerted her first, and as she whirled around to face her as she approached, she properly took in her outfit and smirked. All of the softness from the outfits she'd worn to Kirby's apartment was missing, here. Even though she was always put-together, the outfits she'd chosen for their previous two sessions were brighter, with pops of color and professional silhouettes. 

Now, Fallon had reverted to the way she used to dress when their roles were reversed. Her open coat revealed a low-cut, but unrestrictive dress: black, hugging her torso and stopping just short of her knees. She looked severe, with her long hair pulled back in a tight high bun, making her face look more angular, paired with a long swipe of winged liner and a deep, berry-toned red on her lips.

"Hey, sorry - I couldn't find parking."

Her voice sounded the same, and Kirby felt a little silly for momentarily expecting any different.

"It's okay, I wasn't here long," She wasn't sure exactly why she lied, but pushed past it and reached for the door, holding it open for Fallon to enter first. Ducking under the other woman's arm, she did, walking past the front desk with her head held high, posture stiff.

"Are you coming?" She asked, glancing back over her shoulder at the redhead with a look of almost haughty impatience. Before Kirby had a chance to be offended, she realized exactly what was going on: it was all an act. The outfit, the attitude, the confidence - but not for Kirby's benefit. God forbid any of the staff at the club knew who would be pulling the leash once they were behind closed doors.

Fighting to keep the smirk off of her face, Kirby sped up her pace to keep up, following behind her silently until they were finally alone in their room.

If Fallon had any plans to apologize or explain, Kirby didn't bother to give her the chance. 

"Everything off, please - actually, the shoes can stay."

"Why the shoes?" Fallon asked, shrugging her jacket from her shoulders and then reaching behind herself and hanging it near the door.

"I like how they make your ass look," Kirby replied shortly, glancing over at her in the corner of her eye just to see her reaction. The other woman stiffened visibly, her movements only stuttering momentarily as she reached behind herself and began to unzip her dress. "Wait."

Fallon stopped, turning around to look at her curiously, if not a little alarmed.

"What is it?"

Stepping closer to her, Kirby brushed her hands away from the zipper and shushed her quietly.

"No more talking, unless I ask you a question." She tugged the zipper down slowly, easing her other hand into the opening of the material and up under the strap on her shoulder.

Fallon fell quiet, but Kirby heard her take a deep breath as if centering herself and trying to switch back into the right role.

"No bra, huh?" Kirby's tone was conversational, even light, but Fallon went stiff at the sound of it. Easing the other strap down as well, Kirby let the material of the top of the dress pool at the other woman's hips, both hands returning to her chest to cup her. "Were you hoping I was going to play with them, again?"

She could feel her nipples hardening in her palms before even paying any special attention to them, and chuckled under her breath.

"When my voice goes up? Like this?" Kirby leaned in close, her lips almost brushing the other woman's ear, "That indicates a question."

"No," Fallon replied. From how close to her she was, Kirby could hear her grinding her jaw.

" _No_ , you didn't do that intentionally, or _no_ , you don't want me to play with them?"

Fallon didn't answer that time, shifting and almost reaching up before letting her arms drop to her sides again.

"How about I just keep track of how many questions you didn't want to answer for you? I feel generous." Dropping her hands from her breasts, Kirby slipped her fingers under the remaining silky material and the other woman's underwear, easing both the dress and her panties down over her hips and letting it all drop to the floor at her feet in a heap.

"Turn around."

Fallon turned to her slowly, her arms reflexively crossing over her torso, but Kirby dismissively brushed them away, trailing her fingers gently across her stomach to her hip. 

"Pretty," she observed, almost under her breath. Fallon's cheeks flushed instantly, and Kirby felt a surge of power pass through her. "Come with me."

Fallon's heels clicked along the floor as she followed Kirby to the cabinet, standing back as she pulled both doors open and dug around curiously for a moment. 

"How do these feel?"

Turning to the brunette again, she held out a pair of simple, fur-lined cuffs. Picking them up carefully, Fallon turned them over in her hands and thoughtfully rubbed her fingers along the lining.

"Good."

"Good," Kirby repeated, taking them back and then heading back into the middle of the room, snapping her fingers for Fallon to follow.

She could feel Fallon watching her, listening to the sound of her shifting her weight from heel to heel as she tossed half of the cuffs up over the ring hanging down from the suspension rig, pulling down until they were about chest-level. Beckoning Fallon over, she slipped them over her hands and tightened. 

"Feel okay?"

Fallon nodded, and Kirby did a double-take as she glanced up at her face.

"Yes or no, please."

"Yes."

"That was the last warning," she told her, stepping away to crank the pulley that Fallon's cuffs were tangled around back up towards the ceiling. She knew that her shoulders and back were probably still a little sore from the day before, so the idea for an open suspension instead of a similar setup to the one in Kirby's bedroom would be ideal. Cranking until she was stretched almost taut, Kirby slowly did a lap around her, admiring her handiwork.

Looking up at the restraints, down at herself, at the floor, even closing her eyes - anywhere but looking Kirby in the eye - Fallon's fingers fidgeted around the chain of the cuffs for some sort of grip. 

The high heels had been a nice touch. Stretched out before her with her intense hairstyle and Louboutins - and nothing else - Fallon looked like what Kirby had to imagine was a go-to fantasy for the men she worked with on a day to day basis. 

"I could look at you like this all day," she told her, raising her eyebrows expectantly when she opened her mouth to respond.

"A-" Whatever Fallon planned to say, she stopped dead in its tracks, not making much more than a soft sound before closing her mouth again. It was amazing how quickly she learned when she was tied up.

"So, revisiting my earlier question," Kirby approached her slowly, waiting until they were barely a foot apart before grabbing her waist. Fallon's eyes snapped closed as she swayed slightly from the action. "Do you want me to touch them? Because like I said, I'm feeling generous. Tonight's all about you, babe."

She punctuated her words by squeezing her sides gently, feeling the way the affectionate gesture made the woman in front of her physically unwind, at least a little.

"Yes."

"Much better," she cooed, bringing both hands up to cup her again, before rolling one nipple between her fingers and giving it a warning, but painless squeeze. "Has anyone ever told you that you have incredible tits?"

The words were blunt and inelegant, but they had the desired effect of making the other woman sigh almost blissfully as she tilted her head back.

"That was a question."

" _Yes_."

“I probably could have guessed that,” Kirby replied conversationally, turning her attention to her other nipple and flattening her tongue against it, drawing a happy gasp out of her before she pulled away again. “I bet you hear it all the time, actually. _Look at you_.”

Fallon’s cheeks turned even more red as Kirby looked up at her again, locking eyes with her and smirking. The brunette adjusted her stance, and Kirby could tell without checking that she was easily already wet.

"What about here?" Dropping her hand from her breast down to her leg, Kirby walked two fingers over her skin from the outside to the inside of her thigh, deftly avoiding her center when she jumped in surprise. "What about your legs?"

"What about them?" Fallon asked, her tone stiff as her words came out through gritted teeth.

"D'you get a lot of compliments?"

It was as if Kirby were talking to her about the weather or a specific outfit she'd chosen. It was visibly making the other woman more and more aroused - but not to the extent that her gentle cooing did; there would be more time for that, later. She let her fingertips drag back to the outside of her thigh as she rounded her, coming to stand behind her, instead.

"Sometimes," Fallon replied, dropping her head to watch what the other woman was doing, before adding, "I don't want to talk about what other people think of me."

In Fallon's defense, she barely made a sound when Kirby's hand came down hard on her ass - a stifled yelp, followed by a hiss of pain when her hand stayed in place and squeezed at the already-reddening skin there. The brunette arched forward in her restraints, teetering on her heels as if she would fall over were the cuffs not keeping her upright.

She waited a beat, and then let go, not needing to verbalize Fallon's error for her after she'd already reprimanded her for it.

"Why don't I tell you what I think, then?" She suggested. Grabbing her gently by the ribs, she righted her back on her feet and then smoothed her hands softly down her back before stepping around her, again - something gentle, and affectionate, to take her mind off of being spanked only a moment before.

"I think..." Kirby stood at her side, then turned her attention to the mirror across the room, catching Fallon's eye through it. "That this is the best view in Atlanta."

Fallon squirmed next to her.

"And I think I would do anything you asked, right now." Kirby turned to her properly, walking two fingers down her stomach teasingly and then pressing them between her legs. Gasping softly, Fallon's eyes fluttered closed and she dropped her head forward, slowly rocking her hips forward.

Kirby's educated guess had been right, Fallon _was_ wet, and clearly wanting, trying to press herself down against her fingers, stopped by the chains over her head.

"Oh, that's cute. Are you pouting?" Kirby was referring to the frustrated look of concentration on the brunette's face, but her mocking tone made her let out a tiny growl of annoyance. She chuckled softly. "Oh, don't do _that_."

Hooking her knee behind Fallon's, Kirby tugged her legs open further, her heels sliding stutteringly across the hardwood floor before she was halted by the restraints not having any more to give. With her arms much more tightly pulled above her, Fallon could writhe around to her heart's content without really being able to do much of anything or maintain any sort of controlled stance. Her balance was precarious, and Kirby's fingers between her legs weren't helping her hang onto any of her remaining willpower.

"I want to taste you so badly," Kirby told her, her tone low and all hints of teasing missing now. "But only if you ask nicely."

Fallon practically mewled in response to her words, head falling back languidly like some kind of overtly erotic display of defeat.

"C'mon," Kirby urged. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Kiss me."

The air conditioning in the room chose that moment to cut out, whirring down into silence as Kirby's brain did the same thing. Fallon was quiet, too, and for a moment, Kirby thought she might have misheard her.

" _Kiss you?_ " She repeated, hearing the shake in her voice but ignoring it. "That's not a very specific request. Where would you like me to kiss you?"

Intentionally avoiding her lips, she kissed the corner of her mouth - barely a peck, so fleeting that Fallon didn't have a chance to react before Kirby was travelling elsewhere. 

"Here? Here?" She cupped her chin and turned her face away, pressing her lips to the other woman's neck, next. It was clearly not what she'd meant, but Fallon moaned appreciatively at the sensation all the same, before defiantly tugging her chin out of Kirby's hand and fixing her with a glare.

" _No_."

"Here?" She dipped her head to kiss her collarbone. "Or here?"

Trailing down, she lapped her nipple into her mouth, feeling much more relaxed when the other woman arched closer to her, moaning much more loudly, this time.

"So sensitive," she teased, bringing both hands around to squeeze her ass appreciatively.

"Stop - _wait_ . I want out. _Red_. Let me out."

Fallon's voice was thick and cold - very different from earlier - and Kirby shot upright to grab for the chains over her head. She shook from adrenaline, mentally hitting herself for not thinking to leave something nearby to climb onto for quicker access, but she hadn't thought ahead - and out of everything that had transpired between them over the last three days, _this_ was not the scenario that Kirby thought she was going to need a quick escape from.

"Okay, I've got you," she promised, unhooking the chain and grabbing it in her hand to stop Fallon from reflexively yanking her arms down once free. Lowering them slowly with her, she helped pull her up from the faux-split pose she was standing in, shuffling her to the nearest bench and waiting until she was sitting on it before beginning to unlatch the cuffs. "D'you want to get dressed?"

Fallon nodded, sniffling just once - Kirby tried to catch her eye, but she didn't appear to actually be crying.

"Okay," she breathed, rushing to retrieve her pile of clothing near the door and returning it to her. "Tell me what you need."

Clutching the bundle of material to her chest, Fallon cleared her throat, her voice soft when she spoke again.

"Can we get out of here? Can we go back to yours?"

She looked _so_ small, now. 

Nodding once, Kirby stood upright and reached out to squeeze her shoulder gently. The other woman leaned into her - only for a second, then looked down at her dress in her hands.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby. I need a minute.”

“Okay,” Kirby agreed quickly. She set the cuffs gently on the table beside her and then turned for the door, leaving her be to dress in privacy.

* * *

Despite Kirby insisting that they get a cab from the front door of the club and come back for Fallon's car later, Fallon walked the two blocks to her car and then drove them to Kirby's apartment building. She seemed shaky, but continued to avoid any assistance Kirby tried to provide.

"Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?" She asked again, as they stood in the elevator together. Fallon had been sniffly and visibly sad the entire time, but hadn't made any effort to explain herself.

"I forgot about your roommate," she breathed, finally speaking.

"I texted her and told her to give us some privacy," Kirby assured her, reaching for her hand. "Please tell me what’s going on?"

Fallon wrenched her hand back like she'd been burned, just as the elevator stopped on Kirby's floor and the doors slid open. She made a quick escape, marching swiftly down the hall towards her door.

"I'm gonna run you a bath," Kirby told her, sliding past her as she unlocked the door and headed inside. "Are you hungry?"

Fallon didn't answer for a moment, but followed her to the bathroom anyway. Her movements were stiff but she'd sworn she didn't feel particularly sore - still, Kirby figured a hot bath couldn't hurt relax her mentally, if not physically. Sitting on the closed toilet seat while Kirby adjusted the water temperature and poured a generous amount of bubbles under the faucet, Fallon followed her with her eyes; digging under the sink for a little jar of Epsom salt and then even go so far as to light the candle next to the sink.

Standing up to scrutinize her makeshift spa setup, Kirby planted her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue.

"I have a fresh loofah in the closet. And I'll get you some towels."

She left Fallon alone for a moment, dipping back into the hall and closing the door behind herself, muffling the sound of the running water. 

The linen closet was in a state of disarray, and by the time Kirby actually found a set of matching towels, she felt almost guilty for leaving Fallon alone for so long. Grabbing the still-wrapped spare loofah, a leftover from a housewarming gift basket from her friends, Kirby went to stand back up and check on Fallon, when she spotted _it_.

_It_ was the small inflatable bath pillow that she'd never bothered with upon realizing that she'd lost her hand-pump in the move.

Fallon would probably appreciate it. She did have all of those repetitive-stress clusters of tension in her shoulders, after all. The hand pump was still missing, though - Kirby was thankful she'd skipped the post-session smoke that had become her routine.

Dropping the towels and loofah into a pile, she sat on the carpet and pressed her back to the wall, unwrapping the pillow and locating the spout to start manually blowing it up.

It was a chore, and by the time she was finished, she could hear that the water had been shut off. Breathless but satisfied, she knocked softly on the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Fallon's voice was softened through the door, but even then it still sounded a fraction more relaxed than before.

Nudging the door open softly, Kirby took in the sight of Fallon - with her dress hanging from the towel rack and shoes in a pile below - up to her collarbones in the water, bubbles threatening to overflow out of the edges of the tub.

"Is it okay?"

"'S'fine," Fallon assured her, not meeting her eye as she swirled her hands under the surface.

"I brought you, uh -" Kirby set the loofah beside her, then held up the pillow. "Can you sit up, for a second?"

Fallon's eyes darted up to her face and then dropped to the pillow, confusion twisting her features for a moment before shifting into awe.

"I - yeah." She leaned forward in the water, and Kirby stepped closer to attach the suction cups of the pillow to the shower wall. She avoided looking at her - it felt voyeuristic to look at her bare back despite having just had her completely nude an hour earlier.

"I'll be right back," Kirby promised, setting the stack of towels on the toilet seat before vanishing back into the hall.

Fallon had barely moved by the time she returned from the kitchen.

"Is the pillow okay?"

"It's good."

"Okay, good," Kirby cleared her throat, holding out both a glass of wine and a bottle of water in each hand. Fallon stared wordlessly at her, and she stumbled over herself to explain. "I... was going to see if you wanted an aspirin and then I thought maybe a glass of wine, too, but then I thought it's sort of warm in here and I didn't want you to dehydrate, or whatever, so... water. Here."

She held them up in gesture again, then set them both on the floor next to the tub within the other woman's reach.

"Why are you out of breath?" Fallon asked.

"I - it's not important. Do you want me to stay? Or I could... not stay."

"Do you still like me?" Fallon's words were blunt, if not a little tired, and they startled Kirby into forgetting to breathe altogether for a moment.

Pursing her lips, she nodded.

"Yeah, I do." Changing the subject quickly, she gestured at the sink cabinet again. "Did you want some essential oils or something? We have lavender."

Physically distracting herself, she leaned over and adjusted the pillow behind Fallon's shoulders, making sure it was resting neatly against the small ledge of the tub.

"How come you never asked me out?" Fallon's question was not as innocent as her tone made it sound, and she locked eyes with Kirby before she could pull away from her completely. Feeling frozen by her stare, Kirby stayed close. "Because _sometimes_ it feels like you like me, and then other times, you completely throw me off."

"Like?" Kirby pressed.

"Like refusing to kiss me, for starters."

"Fallon, I -" Kirby sighed, sitting back on her haunches and shaking her head. "I didn't want to... it wasn't supposed to be about the sex."

"It wasn't _not_ about the sex, either," Fallon pointed out. "You said you wanted me to _let go_."

"Yeah, but -"

"I let go, and what did you do?"

There it was - the sweet spot of vulnerability between her laughing and crying - Fallon stared at her with an intensity she wasn't used to; she wasn't quite hurt, but pre-emptively ready to be. Needing closure even though she knew it wouldn't necessarily make her happy.

"I really like you," Kirby clarified. Fallon’s entire face changed, her body suddenly leaning forward as if she were being pulled in by a magnet; the energy in the room had shifted, and brightened. "I didn't want to take advantage of you being -"

Heat washed over her lower body and it took Kirby a moment to process that she'd been covered with a splashing wave of hot water from the tub as Fallon surged out of the water towards her and kissed her. Shuffling closer on her knees, not wanting her to fall, Kirby kissed her again, and again, leaning over the water and smiling at the feeling Fallon's wet skin soaking her clothing as they pressed together. One hand slid up her bare back, and Fallon moaned into her mouth softly when her fingers pressed expertly into the precise spot between the other woman's shoulder blades that she could never reach herself.

Breaking the kiss to breathe, Fallon grinned - the only warning that Kirby got before she was pulled fully into the tub, sending waves of displaced water onto the tile flooring. 

"Wait," the brunette whined, gesturing frantically. "My shoes."

"Your shoes?" Kirby exclaimed, taking full advantage of the fact that the remaining water was shallow enough to avoid any drowning incidents and tickling her. "You're worried about your shoes? Look at me!"

Laughter poured out of her and she wildly scrambled for purchase against the tub, the other woman, anywhere she could reach, squealing for her to stop in a much more pleasant reprise of her request in the club earlier.

"Unbelievable," Kirby breathed playfully. Still, she stopped, leaning down to kiss her again, swallowing last of Fallon's breathless giggles. She broke away a moment later to peel her soaked t-shirt up over her head, tossing it haphazardly onto the wet floor and turning her attention back to the woman under her again.

"Kirby?"

Fallon's voice was as soft as a feather, contentment soaking into the single word.

"Hm?"

"Take me to bed?"

"You don't need to ask."

* * *

Crashing through Kirby's bedroom door, her and Fallon's singular tangled form fell towards the bed. Nearly slipping as she stepped on the cold hard center of the spreader bar from a few nights earlier, Kirby yelped and grabbed the other woman for balance, causing her to step on it in turn. The pair of them landed on the duvet with a bounce, shushing each other through excited, giddy giggling.

Climbing messily on top of the other woman, Fallon pushed her hands down playfully and began working at the button of Kirby's jeans, tugging them down just enough to bury a hand inside of them.

Groaning softly in appreciation, Kirby willed herself to keep her eyes open and watch her, despite jolting waves of pleasure teasing her into closing them in bliss.

  
She mentally changed her earlier claim on record. _This_ was the best view. She could look at her like this all day - every day. She’d need to check Fallon’s schedule.

* * *

**_ONE YEAR LATER_ **

"Okay," Kirby sighed, shrugging her duffle bag off of her shoulder in the foyer of the condo. "That's the last bag. Thank you so much for your help with that single box you brought in, by the way."

Fallon turned around where she was in the process of hanging one of Kirby's jackets in the closet, quirking an eyebrow.

"I told you - I got my nails done yesterday. It would be a waste," she replied, turning back to the closet.

"Seems pretty convenient to me," Kirby accused, sidling up behind her and pulling her back against her chest.

"I - ew, Kirby, please, we're both so sweaty."

"Mm, I don't mind," she promised, nuzzling against Fallon's neck and then nipping at her ear softly. "Besides, I'm the one who did all the heavy lifting. I don't know if you've earned sweating yet."

Squirming against her and letting out a tiny amused huff of a breath, Fallon softly wedged her elbow back between them to try to free herself.

"Will you stop? What's gotten into you today?"

Kirby shrugged, letting her escape but smiling when she turned around to face her properly. 

"Moving in together. It's big."

Fallon pursed her lips to try to keep her smile from her face, which only made the redhead grin even wider.

"I just thought that we could get a little head start on the christening thing before the party later." Kirby reached out and took both of her hands, swinging them slightly before leaning in to kiss her again in what she hoped would be a convincing manner.

"Oh, that reminds me -" Fallon pulled away from her abruptly, shaking her hands free and turning to vanish down the hallway.

Standing alone in the front hall, dumbstruck, Kirby stared after where she'd vanished to.

"Fallon...?"

"Found it!" She called after a moment, returning quickly and holding a small shopping bag out to her, complete with a tuft of tissue wrapping paper sticking out from the top. "Housewarming gift."

"Since when were we doing gifts?" Kirby complained, wandering out of the front hall into the entrance to the living room.

"Oh, enough." Fallon leaned forward, peering into the bag as Kirby pulled the tissue out, then looking up at her for her reaction.

"Oh... my _god_."

Fallon burst into laughter, trying to stifle it as Kirby pulled [the leather pillow cuff set](https://www.etsy.com/listing/813231082/bdsm-pillow-with-removable-handcuffs?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=bdsm+shackle&ref=sr_gallery-1-20) out and let the empty bag drop lightly to the floor between them. 

"Because I wouldn't let you bring the spreader bar," she explained, even though Kirby already understood the reference.

"I'm going to kill you," she threatened, turning the item over in her hands. 

"No!" Fallon laughed, dancing out of her reach when she tried to swing the pillow on her. 

Tossing the pillow at her completely, Kirby laughed when she smacked it away and then pounced, forcing her to the couch and kissing her as she fell back against the cushions. 

Unable to resist one last snarky remark, Fallon broke the kiss to look up at her sweetly before asking, "D'you want me to get the pillow?"

Raising her sarcasm by being genuine, Kirby shook her head and smoothed a piece of the other woman's hair from her forehead. 

"Next time. Right now I just want you."


End file.
